#burningword

The Garage Knelt beneath the staircase my skin hummed against the threat of discovery, the shock of her blonde hair, the string of his guitar, the damp silhouette beneath my thin cotton dress. Clouds of laughter and smoke swung between us, a circuit of pungent electricity rocked with soft delirium. She kissed my lips with curling halos of marijuana and strawberry, blew dandelion-seed wishes for a boy. II. The Carnival The arc of the Ferris Wheel winked above crowns of swaying pine, causing us to drift off track. It was an asylum from the empty road ahead of us, a catalyst for the drug, so we shoved crumpled dollars into fat hands of grey-haired ticket vendors, stumbled arm-in-arm across straw-thatched grounds, red-eyed, howling, lost in ourselves, rapturous, discomposed–limitless. III. The Launch We crawled inside the bench seat, a metal bar strapped across our laps, pinned to sweat-stained vinyl and faith in numbers. The engine lurched and the machine gyrated satellite shuttles into streams of brilliant red and canary shrieks. Our bodies were fused together in pools of marrow and spun-sugar. My brother and sister, we were reborn in mongrel gravity, the vicinity of three, rendered invincible by bastard youth.