my last days as a bay area kid was high top sneakers sliding off my feet and into your bed heads of white
sage burning black through eyes rolled back and sliding down my lips concrete grips our hips across
shattuck as we walk wooden like the lizard sliding through your stone heart boxed in we bart through
frisco fog and watch a soggy golden sun sliding past the blue glow of your cellphone hold my phone left
my bus pass at home i catch tears sliding staining your swisher we roll popsicle kisses into wrinkled hugs
dry as ghost town sundays sliding across littered memories shoplifting moments dried mango moons
make me spiral reggae sliding and grooving up my spine i wind and wind this clock never wanting it to
stop time is running out.
