in the history of an indie blues band,
playing at the brewery,
half past seven, satisfactory,
on a solid Sunday,
I met a young girl called relief.
when hot sauce was happening,
I lost her in the backyard
of the biz with friends
from different cities,
al learning the way we do.
my pinky finger hurt,
but not from punches or texts,
from light and charity.
looking for her in the smoke house
and the horse barnes,
we realized it won't work,
so we cheersed and balanced on the edge of the night,
just trying to prove a point.