Sunset brings back the unending beige horror that is the day-to-day drudgery of the retail & food service work week with the promise that nothing but burns, box cuts, and bruised egos thru the veil of customer screams is all that awaits.
We push & coast & ride curls of shimmering asphalt trying to drink deep the ambrosia on a honey drip from a mirage of magnolia shores
New bearings put on my board and I feel like they must have at the Salt Flats out in Utah breaking land speed records while the drops of dandelions and beige stucco whip past me like light trails as my friend’s pushing slows down to molasses speed as they watch me tremble off into the dewy tangerine dusk and I know no agonies of my weak, sickly frame up here- only the light and the electric uncut joy radiating like mercury thru my bones.
is bleeding as you sit down on the tattered green couch next to me and I know you feel bad and your doe eyes tell me over “Wave of Mutilation” we shouldn’t have gone skateboarding down that massive fucking hill after the 4th round of tequila shooters but that moment of wind hitting bare skin as I barreled down the asphalt that thankfully had no cars on it at 2 AM was like I was floating in a lava lamp, if only for a split second, beneath the tension wire.
Once called sugarcane waters home- then you left to chase love cross country and what you left me was a book of heartache, lonesome nights, and how to properly hit a fakie heelflip.
I smoke another clove cigarette and watch the minutes drip by as I keep “A Thousand Miles” on a Mobius loop.
I hate that I still have your thrift store work shirt hanging off my chair because I can’t bear to move it away.
I hate that every time I get on my board I have to stop, because I can’t stop the flood of tears.
I hate that everyone still asks me how you are and mentions how we were “such good friends” and “you two were attached at the hip.”
I hate you.
I miss you.
A bonfire was happening as part of some Halloween party up the road.
I saw it while skating by on the craggly sidewalk.
The music caught me off guard- it was Sixpence None the Richer, “Kiss Me,” which was playing as we watched She’s All That having cracked jokes during the first few minutes of the movie, pretending we didn’t love it, and we shared our first kiss as those swooning guitars crashed into our ears from the slightly blown out speakers on my hand-me-down DVD/VCR TV and the only light was coming from the TV and the moonlight from the half-open blinds on the lone window in the shotgun-style bonus room above my family’s garage.
I knew no one there.
Everyone was drinking.
No one noticed me.
Until I walked up to the fire pit and hucked the board you gave me for my birthday a year ago into the crackling flame.