The things we give up in reckless youth
Johanna M. Geiger
Running wild – the wolfish grin
Moonshine years:
an animal-print bedroom smelling faintly of smoke.
I had forgotten – even then – all the things I said
A response: “Yes, it’s too bad”
resignation, then regret
Oh, your tobacco lips were just too kind,
too insistent, too much unlike me
A punch, then a melancholy backward glance
You, too, stuck in mournful delusion.
