You stub your toe on the chair
by the piano
it reminds you of the day
you kissed the girl
with the velvet eyes
The cinnamon linger
short skirt and no undies
boyhood
the vodka was knockoff
moonshine made by
engineers in the basement
the parents not quite
what they seemed but
alive
no longer
no longer
alive
But the memories remain
the girls on the beach
so sweet
small bras covering nothing
I retreat into dreams
of youth
.
.
.
Prompted by a @maxmundan prompt: This is how it starts
