September 3rd, 2007
Writings: our friend, memory - by Angela Hamilton
we witnessed the change of a day
from behind a windshield
black to yellow pink at 81mph in 6hrs
saw a helicopter, nervous, on the interstate
lifting westbound passengers
from a twisted metal forest
shock and disgust making
the music meticulously crafted go mute til
after we devoured a cheap greasy feast
we reached our destination impatient
parked in a concrete mess of echoes
rested our heads on the 3rd story floor
and dreamt of our friend memory
the afternoon came with rain
we sat slumped in our freezing cafe
flavored tobacco smoke drifting
through noses and disappearing in hair
drew on the bathroom walls with chalk
claiming presence but erased the next day
that night we went to a house
with deer heads nailed to the walls
stereo so loud names had to be screamed
the alcohol in our veins
forcing us to forget who we met
and i remember laughing
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