sugar-soaked in sepia
our expressions embellished like squashed liquorice
a sticky tattoo on tattered sleeves
an exhibition of adolescence

smiles that split our faces sore
gnawed lips cracking
to reveal chattered gnashers
stained from library coffee and
polished with bargainbin toothpaste

our salted skin doused in *****
and coke – making the memory oh-so sweeter
surrounded by a band of bar-time brothers
lost in an array of technicolour strobes
oblivious to the incoming traffic
and the carcrash they call adulthood

I remember the melody being played
the regular Wednesday swansong
NOW DON'T LOOK BACK IN ANGER

I rarely do