pair bonded with a few wrong ones some of the time. met people who were sorted, too. on the way up types, each step, over stragglers blown away by a lack of ambition. wreaths laid to cover tracks. the good one tasted like syrup sprung from maple tree. sometimes sexy types went queer criminal, mad. which I was okay with honestly even though, it could grow awkward, we gave it a go. in fragile youth a friend had a food disorder drowned in carrot cake. sugar highs a reminder of days lost. summers spent chasing deflated ball tail across town. caught breath on a bench remains of youth, scratched into wood. puberty tsunami, emotional (to say the least). classroom tantrums popped up from anywhere, out like pimples. avalanches of horn. and those cutie pies touched up behind bike sheds. youth felt pure and sticky for a bit. now in adult land, memories of being about it and nothing to do days flood the mind in ways unexpected. does what maturity demands require youth extraction? time is now often populated by intrusion.
It's beautiful