cigarettes and summer.
The wind was wonderful
and unbearable. You could
scarcely get a breath.
Shielding our smokes
with the three far fingers,
we made it work,
leaning behind the dash,
or a seat, to take a hit.
Beastie Boys bumped
a ridiculously sampled
Paul's Boutique
from the stereo.
We may have been young.
It may have been yesterday.
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