how youth is lost

still,
she spins around you

it's all so grave here
the dreams locked up
in a prison of green

the little hairy beasties
looking us in the eye
and squawking

still,
they say absolutely nothing

we'd already kissed by then
the may pole flags
crackling and snapping

your pull is undeniable
when we sit there talking
about yesteryear and

still,
the ferriswheel dominates
our visions of ourselves

on your left hand, then
but the wrong finger
was a testament to sentiment

in cracked mother of pearl
bought for a buck
from a wrinkled old lady

still,
there was the icecream

we stole from some kid
asleep at the stand
while we laughed

the police broke it up
of course, and we laughed
it off like panties under the table.

still,
wreckless felt right