But this night was one of those.

Tryna hit these pure rocks roam west? It’s so nice out.

That got her. Too many flashbacks to fight off.

These were the circumstances that led to that most euphoric mode; a mode the drugs furnished, but that we too were key pieces to.

That above/isolated-from-the-world mode.

Isolated, yet not alone. Bc of each other.

Finally talking.

Really talking.

Saying whatever the fuck.

Everything a gem.

Everything straight bars.

Still, wasn’t like how we used to mish it around, back west. In Cali.

Santa Cruz; Berkeley.

This terrain didn’t allow for it. No variation in elevation, step to step.

You couldn’t mish it down the rocks, to sand. Feeling your way with your feet in the moonlight.

Angles revealing themselves according to perspective.

According to your relation to the water, which itself never stopped moving.

Was ever shifting.

This vertigo part of the intoxication.

Here and now though.

Had to content ourselves with directional variation.

That diagonal from 34th and Walnut to 32nd and Chestnut.

Grass and benches and trees, but sterilized the sheen of campus.

Of academic transplantation.

Muhfuckers carrying backpacks and briefcases and tote bags, going to or from meetings or classes or the library.

Killing our buzz.

Not killing; these rocks were too fire to kill.

But detract-from.

Prevent optimization-of.

Back on Market, realized Market was too far. Too city-ward. Center City energy leaking out all the way to here, across the water. Some ten blocks. Not tryna go west; west was where the Oldness was. And north. Up 36th. Where home was. We weren’t tryna head home yet. But were already walking towards it before we realized. So stalled out mid-block, in the shadows of a warehouse-y service entrance nook. Sat. Alternated playing songs for each other on our phone speakers.

“K this one’s a little gnarly and I don’t mean everything it says,” she said. “But I’ve been obsessed and it’s also funny. It’s called ‘Bloody Mother Fucking Asshole.’”

I wish I was born a man

So I could learn how to stand

Up for myself

Like those guys with guitars…

I will not pretend

I will not put on a smile

I will not say I’m alright for you!

You bloody mother fucking asshole (x like 20).

She was so giggly but looked at me funny. Like I sorry? Like Luh ya bb!!

But also like But nah this some straight up real shit.

This how it is now bruh.

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