....as the rusty switchblade caught the faint edge of
the tall brown bushes and we could no longer hear his heavy panting.

We hid in hollowed out tree trunks by day
and bottomless snake swamps in the night.

I asked twice about the scars on your cheek,
but your eyes turned from yellow to red to me,
and it wasn't worth the pain.

The stalking owl peered down on us from his
temporary home, while I kept the bugs away
from our muddy faces with a fire that burned underwater forever.

I could feel that old Volkswagen melting into
my body.
My hands were steel and rubber, while my eyes
began to blink at the bottom of the swamp.
Your face became a guard rail, something all too familiar, yet
so distant in memory.

Lets awake the crickets and firefly's and collide with all the passion
of a teenage car crash unsolved.

And while that owl may someday tell our tale, we'll keep re-enacting
Feb 3rd 1998 over and over again.

02/03/2010