I still carry that mark. The burn scar when we were playing cigarettes and I dropped mine on my thigh. I remember you laughing and oh-shitting so suddenly. No fires were started, but the night knew of our existence in sullen rhythms. Tender the wind blew past our childish folly to the memories we came to have.

When we went to a Bonobo concert that I planned for us to attend, and he didn’t show up until three hours after starters. I didn’t know it was like that. That living people can be advertisements for the youth. You threw up in the bathroom from kratom without the stomach medicine you were hoping I would bring for you but forget to, or I don’t know exactly what happened.

Walking on sandy beach in Palm Springs, playing tennis then walking. The water in my teeth with seaweed detritus littering the shore. Silky memories past, of our togetherness and comfort with each other’s bodies exposed on that day.

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