Dear Friend


I don’t talk to you anymore.

I still get your songs stuck in my head sometimes.

For me,

We’re still above the bar

smoking Camel Blue’s

taking gravity bongs in honor of it all.

Let it live


entangled in the carpet

or yellow on the walls.

I still see sunrise smoke rings hovering above

and think of you.



I was thinking about the Midwest.

White, orange, and black cars.

The color of the craft,

our New Year

Spotted on the first day of Summer.

Sometimes fresh starts aren’t always so fresh.

Sometimes they are hot and burning off scorching concrete.

Sometimes they are born on Midnight in the suburbs of Connecticut.