Gas Pumps
We sit on the wet pavement of the 7/11 at 4 AM,
smoking camels beneath the eerie glow of the
gas station lights. This is the hour of nostalgia.
You're all bubble gum day dreams and heart
shaped sunglasses with a bad attitude.
I'm all liquid depression and over sized
hoodies with a drinking problem.
We watch as the morning cracks the sky
open like an egg as the world slowly wakes
and the darkness of a highway becomes
speckled with the orbs of headlights.
We flick our cigarette butts towards the gas
pumps because we know it's a bad idea.
In a book bag there is a bottle of jager -
I take a good drag and pass it to you -
a toast to this hour of nostalgia.
-kelsey jade
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