We met
in the roar of a mad summer
the overture
an ominous tuning of stings
by teenage Cassanovas
turned explosive
homemade fireworks
mortar and pestle
working our confusion
into a fine powder
short fuses set off
by our morbid curiosity
embodied by carless cigarettes
driven to awe
mistaken for maturity
that roar still hides
in the dark alleys
waits for summer nights
to reveal itself
now stifled to
soft humming
pumping blood
light rain
Advertisement
