hotter than eggs on a pan

sitting in my own sweat
t-shirt sticking to the car seat
I go back years
the scent of patchouli
and a badlyrolled joint
the backdrop for us

you and me and he
a triangle of the craziest
she nearly took my head off
guessing what we were up to
the day covered in southern comfort

so glad Mom didn’t know
what I was up to
sizzling summer days
on eagles wings no matter
how we grasped at them
hands-knees-lips-neck

good and bad it all passed
there was a beginning and an end
it wasn’t the best time in my life
but it also was not the worst

memories etched
in the rocks at the lake
impressions of our bodies gone
as sand shifted and water seeped in
before anyone could say for certain
that we had been there

One thought on “hotter than eggs on a pan

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