Smiles pasted like scrap books

And alcohol and thank you notes and designer boots and third world countries and screaming babies and
the city’s melting around our sneakers
and mafias and food fights and makeup and planned parenthood and last kisses and mornings after and evenings before and birthday cakes and hangnails and broken phones and we’re sleeping in again and ring around the rosy and board races and bathroom stalls and rooftops and sleepovers and it’s now or never
and running and flying and stopping and breathing and
Blinking while

The grapes are still in season
And the neighbors are away
It’s just you
Me

And these cliffs