hip high and bright-eyed

safe by Mother’s side

she smokes her cigarette between two fingers

and her hand rests lazily on my shoulder


night air blows exhaled and passive smoke alike toward

the east

and to the stars


I want to hold her hand

but feel only the sting of my juvenile carelessness

and I cringe


you bloody dick, go inside and put

some water on



scars from a safer time

beacons of a smaller world

nostalgic imprints on skin

burnt hard with memories


I do it myself, now,

just to feel safe

once again