Red brick apartment buildings hanging onto the outskirts of suburbs lie mischievous boys, fighting the sidewinds of vertigo. Shrubs, herbs and the soot of long-gone fathers. A mother inside with a heart of gold but a body that took all the blows like the moon, but she smiled at me, like the sun, handing me lunch at the end of the cafeteria line and telling me how she was pushing on with her whispered hope disguised in a lulling sigh. Her hair, strands of cratered red from sweat, a fear’s excrement, and wheels taking rest on corridor walls. A cloud of cigarette soul pressing the heavy smoke of dabs below while the mother is still in the house and so’s the cat. A streak of denser-than-honey on a strip of translucent paper; bubbles from the bong distorting posters on the walls; silicone bands for wrists too hot to the touch; controllers taking shade like spiders under the cover folds while I snuck into the bathroom to hide from the chokehold of the heat and the tokes.
Skater Days by Thomas Baruzzi is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.