Let’s tell time in stories.
Let’s tell stories in dimes,
in losses,
in rounds of tequila in basement bars.

Let’s remember
when bikes meant freedom,
coasting through an empty campus
on summer nights.

Every winter,
we’ll wish for snow days,
“Baby, it’s Cold Outside,”
to group cuddle on couches
and drink each other’s beers.

And over time we’ll fill journals,
bind albums of our memories,
so we can press replay
and watch ourselves grow up together
over and over.

About Ry

It's so magical, it's gay.
This entry was posted in The Tricks. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s