The AUDACITY of The Young

I remember how oily pizza and coke guzzled straight from the can tasted DIVINE paired with his uneven smile. On the table, the condensation pooled between our entwined fingers, and I didn’t move an inch even as the WHOLE of summer crawled up my naked back. We were scrawny kids breaking curfews like twigs, swaggering around town with enough DESIRE to flood those gently crumbling buildings the government could not be arsed to fix. A city of COWARDS: our money-guzzling landlords, our time-thieving bosses, our parents with their milky, ineffectual monotony. We turned on the FLOODLIGHTS and saw them all crouching around our Olympic-sized pools of desire. This is PRIVATE PROPERTY, we yelled, a bomb shelter against the tragedy of time. We drove them out and encountered it for the first time: the sorrowful sunset and its silent dirge. That vast lake holding its breath.