Making Out Under the Bleachers
I just seem to regress
Back to times of recess
When she said she didn’t get tagged
But I know I caught the small of her back
I scraped across her dress and felt what
Seemed like a dream.
Soft skin on hardened bones.
I think of it on long rides home.
Blacked out rides on my bicycle to your place
To taste the warmth of whiskey when I see your face.
Riding home to you my darlin
With baseball cards in my spokes
Peddling with all of my might.
I’ll wake up your neighbors
To the sound that you like
When I’m coming in real late to tuck you in
And you kiss me despite my mouth being covered in gin.
I hear the crowed cheer while we kiss under the bleachers.
Skipping class and pissing off our teachers.
You remind me of a sweeter time.
When my heart was pure and being in love was perfectly fine.