a lament to 1991

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I remember the nights I stole in my car
back when you were seventeen
and Alf reruns were on T.V.
Back when we both knew
you wanted to go to Harvard,
and wouldn't get in.
Back when they gave us
acne medication
so we wouldn't kill ourselves.
We wore flannel then,
oh we still wear flannel,
and the seat of your jeans
smelled like strawberry Pop-Tarts.
Do you remember those
soot-starred nights
when the gravel got in your eyes
and I wouldn't,
still wouldn't
put the top up?
You let your arms,
both arms
spill over the sides
of our car
spread so far apart that you
looked like an explosion.
An explosion of plaid
and hair flying backwards
and love that was too young
to be anything but real.

Created: Apr 08, 2014

Tags: the 90s, love, depression, car, existensialism, growing up, teenager, young love

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