The night is sticky
Air as thick as cold maple syrup
But the wind is
Beautifully
Chilling
Cooling my hot skin
Drying the sweat on my brow
Board beneath me
Friends around me
Adrenaline fueled by Red Bull
Shouts and whoops
Car horns and headlights
The black below me rushes by
Two ahead of me
One bike
Another board
The night is fresh
Only midnight
Yes the night has only just begun
-alice
YOU ARE READING
Wonderland
PoetryShe wanders, lost in wonder. She falls in and falls out. Loses days and nights and friends. Bottles. Ashes. Echoes of laughter left in her wake. She is no one, without even a capital letter to her name. She is alice.
