If I were 18, I'd race across black ice parking lots with a crowd of strangers and a stranger holding my hand. We'd fall away into loud forgotten hours...

No Poem Is the Only Poem. No Story Is the Only Story. It's Just One Planet. But There Are Many Stories.
If I were 18, I'd race across black ice parking lots with a crowd of strangers and a stranger holding my hand. We'd fall away into loud forgotten hours...