Your middle finger was clutching my thumb through the park and over macdougal.
The torches were blazing about our street and just down from the sky. Casey
stepped with Anna off the curb. His shoes are clogs, did you see? They dipped in

that puddle, the one catching green. They were tripping up and slipping around,
singing 'Rolalita come out tonight' and oh I wanted to pull you down. roll on
top of me, baby. just roll. we'll wreck our clothes. we'll scrape our knees.

we'll taste the scabs. you, sweet, are worth these next four months until I bail
out and kiss behind your ears, drive off in the van. oh my god, I think I'm
dying in this car seat, where I'll spend through winter.