It’s a

Gas Station epic,

It’s an

Asphalt grenade-

When I

Busted my face

With the

Fall from a sky-scraping tailgate.

When the night before,

I snuck to pour

Myself another shot

Of Vodka,

Every time they stepped

Outside to smoke their cigarettes.

And then the morning hawk

Saw me shaving Michael’s head

Because I woke up still drunk.

Then we walked for miles,

To hit the beach

But the beach hit back,

And left me lovestruck

With its effortless destruction

Of any cynicism left in me.

And it was

Cul-de-Sac Culture,

It was

So very romantic,

When I stared into the sky

And could read the stars

In broad daylight.