Skater Days

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.
Creative Commons License
Skater Days by Thomas Baruzzi is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

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