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.
well wreck our clothes.
well scrape our knees.
well 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 Im dying in this car seat, where Ill spend through winter.
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