Teenage angst drives streets hoping not to stall.
Old soul boys plan out things, rolling bocce balls.
Fleabag crowd on hills watching
Scent from them wafts to turf
I can’t afford to lose this thing
It’s my entire self worth.
Will time unwind enough to pull us closer?
I thought move meant dancing
Should’ve asked me.
We’d be dancing.
Rolls around my mind while I’m rolling.
Trash can man puts a quarter on earth.
Cardboard gal shouts quarter on fire.
Drunk eyes stumble ‘til it’s down to the wire
and fire finally takes it.
Bimbo girl glides streets ignoring the lights.
Old soul boys plan out bringing back old nights.