made of smoky chaparral
and cactus green paint.
we shot tequila that had no color
and tried on spanish phrases
like we had no color.
dominoes slapped wood
while we multiplied across the table
in equations of ivory rectangles.
the bonepieces weaved
a trail around empty wine bottles
and the ghosts of marijuana seeds.
saturday night in a stripped garage
that spread it's belly open
to the sound of electric guitars.
youth danced in the whisps
of cigarette smoke,
they punched at swollen noise
and shook their bones–
like it was cult ritual
for time killing.
two dollars bought entry
to an impotent keg
and waves of reverb to lull
me into a pre-dawn haze.
sunday on the lawn
and we sprawled in our black robes
like a midnight mass across
the white chairs and morning light.
i walked with my peers
under the gaze of our archaic instructors.
stone faced, these relics of academia
shook our sweaty hands
and mispronounced our names,
like we were a disposable group
to fill in the quiet space
between the commencement
ceremony 4 and ceremony 6.
