it was a lonely future for the lightlust youth
she was fourteen in denim cut off shorts with sticky iceblock a-drip down her forearms. she looked at me twice or three, but she never asked my name. i bit my teeth and sucked away a juicy, stutter-y hello (and the almost outloud thought of- ‘what a coincidence huh, we’re sucking from the same flavour popsicle. real good though ‘cause gee, isn’t it a hot noon?’). but then she left and i was alone.