we set sail on a backyard sea of neon lights,
a hundred smiles and 'typical situations'
were how we began our nights

when eighteen meant we had all the time...

wasting hours by the poolside,
smoking in the dim half-light
the patio provided as the campfire's
embers slowly faded to grey

those barely recognizable moments
we felt slipping away
before we had time to collect them,
pause the moment, bask in the glow
and that's about right where we left them

when nineteen year old eyes opened up before mine...

2 a.m. saw our friends driving away
in first-class second-hand
automobiles and the purring of engines
was about when it hit me;

your lips had already
extracted the best of me.
this was when i had to reluctantly
stop calling you mine

when twenty could never feel so fine...

the fresh smell of springtime
was where we offered up our goodbyes,
gentley pulling the covers over
to softly suffocate under the neon lights
of our long-lost sport hill nights.