—IF I HAD SOMETHING REALLY SPECIAL, I’D MAKE SURE TO GIVE IT TO YOU

  

Make-believe

 

      You tasted like the taffy I stole on the boardwalk the day my brother shouted Punk and Adopted and Fag and the flabby owner ran his ass over the slats while I flipped him off without looking and the granny in front of me wasn’t looking either as I caterwauled into her and later I heard she smashed her skull on a beach rock somehow dying like that just like that just like the first kiss we shared in the sun in Jersey when everything looked painted make-believe and cheerful same as a beachball sailing into the surf so beautiful that people just stare instead of chasing after it