located in the dry-storage area
towards the back of the wrong business.
so pass the salt and pour the gorgeous.
if I am alright, you are not alright, vice versa.
we shut our eyes to the chain restaurant fight.
I was only sixteen for a night,
tesselating back to the superb
misspelled werds of the wounded youth.
we were captains of iced tea submarines,
fending off the giant ghosts of sleep,
wiping our boogers on beverage napkins.
two wrongs make us right
on couches in corners of harrowing hallways,
and when our eyes lit up, they turned into orange-blue fire.
what's good for you is wrong for us,
even on opposite day, justice is our middle name,
mapping constant rebel constellation aftermaths.