February 21, 2012
More by this author
That summer
when we were sure my mother was still in love
and we let the sun narrate the stories left in leather skin.
Like the Sunday Bible studies that I'm
no longer allowed to attend
because I brought the devil to a party once.
When bicycles took us anywhere
we needed to be.
We've added a few years
and few pieces of useless rubber to the mix,
and suddenly we mean
so much more.
Suddenly we mean something.

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