Page 114 - NOMADS_NO5

109leading us Home is a box, small and peachy with the handydandy grill in the Back door of thebakery is always jammed shut; kick it so it Swings in the evening park by thewater with a Joint rolled in the backyard on the picnic table that got hit by a Hurricane of feelings rushes into my chest, reflections in the water daringme to Jump into crashing waves with bubbles buzzing past my ears and spinning me in Knots tied two times in the Converse laces of shoes thatgraze sticky, sugar Floors swept in the dead of night by a man, no longer Young and unknowing, my yellow pants catch his Eyes hungrily scan the turnovers as I wait for him to go bike Riding riding, riding, stop; bikes are dragged all the way across miles of piles of endless Sandcoats the floors where friends happily sit to drink wine and eat leftover Cookies are made overnight; he is complaining about the long shift, but I still get a kiss Good morning says the bartender at4 AM when he tells us that making drinks is like scooping ice cream forAdults impatiently wait behind an Old man smiles at me and asks how I’m holding up in the Rain is an umbrella carelessly left on the back doorhook until the return of cloudy Skies eventually clear up, but we’re still at work scooping fruit out of Tin cans create our home phone, connecting roomto room; his whispers over the line lull me to Sleep is not on our minds as we dip and twirl around until everyone else has Left alone, we sit at the bar until closingTime is what we talk about; how much we have left, how much has passed, childhood memories, a collection of lost............