Thursday, July 29, 2010

viva lost hood

he was tall
he had a great frame
i remember what his shoulders looked like in the dark
some sort of tale
that lingered on
for too long
the cars went by
fast around the corner
in that house
in that house
you could hear almost every sound
the neighbors walking by
the dogs fighting
the rain dancing
across the tin roofs
children with sticks hitting the chain-link fence
people making love
above you
alongside you
inside you
i slept on the couch
without making a sound
always to music
(viva lost hood)
there were times when we would gather
in the living room
and just laugh and laugh
about someone's antics
or we would go out at night
our crew
our clan
and wear bands around our heads
arms in the air
and roam Sacramento
as if everything was brand new to us
(because it was)
and we would sometimes sit on the roof
and watch the sky
turn into code
mumble either confessions
or make out
or draw on the white tile
until the building fell apart
and we would hide it in the trees
(until they chopped it down)
i would lay on the carpet floor
and hum along to music that
i had just discovered
or remember that time
John got me to smoke out of a bong
for the (first) time
and we "discovered" Portishead
and afterwards
awkward commenced
(to which he then left)
and i was free to be high
and alone

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