Three Graces At Beggar's Monument
A cigarette appeared in Cy’s mouth like a jump cut.
“I’m like Peter Pan and ya’ll are my misfit toys.” He scratched his gut over the smoothed down 4x t-shirt.
“The lost boys.” Jetta corrected him thru her own cigarette. “This is what we do when we come back from running away.”
She sat and bolted one from the freshly opened bottle.
Life comes clearer on a hot, hazy summer day.
Sunburnt shoulders hunched from carrying the weight of the world
And the weight of your child and his laughter.