For a while the world was still on a driveway in Charlottesville. Getting drunk off of what we steal, what a neighbor's freezer held for me and you. My shoes sweat like selfish sheets from the breath of the silent heat. But at night when the wind is sweet you can walk and not feel your feet, and see streetlights down jpa.
Too many places to pass out, from the bed to the downstairs couch. Too many let downs to say out loud with so many summer stars still out. Distant reasons to leave the house. But every other person's just a piece on a board game that we play because it's free. And when we're done we scatter everything, left under tables where no one ever cleans. And we walk back home down jpa.
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