just bid farewell to mes amis, now i am alone for four hours t a coffee shop in knoxville, tn with a full water bottle of red wine
to sip or not to sip while i wait for the mardi gras crew
those things our parents
will never understand;
how we aren’t lovers anymore
but chose to stay behind
how we love more than we knew how,
90 miles an hour, double buckled
in the front seat and still rolling joints
in the back seat.
how we never really learned.
kids like us never listened.
at 14, we scribbled sharpie
onto CD’s with songs that
our parents never got.
how at 23, we’ve got this rickety,
shambled thing we call a new kind of family.
we’ve got our parents’ old minivan,
and our own problems that
we’re doing our best to sort through.
how we crank up the mix cd
with our friends piled in,
still, after all these years,
not really knowing where to go.