met up with Arik
at some hipster place...
(we are both aging hipsters,
but he pulls it off with his crazy curly Serbian hair,
and his Norwegian accent)
my shoulder hurts and he is already drunk,
so I can barely understand him.
but it is great to see him,
especially when we zero in on the fact that
it has been four years
to the month since we last hung out.
the bartender is a punk ass,
so we go to another bar
and smoke cigarettes
and send Kayle and Hiten photos
of us on someone else's motorcycle.
...it's times like these,
I understand why happiness
is all the rage.
Arik and I do Jager Bombs
(I can't even tell you how long it's been
since I shot one of these gross fuckers),
talk Trump bullshit and graphic design jobs,
before the bartender gives us free hamburgers
and calls us a cab.
this morning, I woke up in Arik's hotel room,
and he was gone, and the made was shaking my toe
and I showered in the ocean, letting the waves
remind me of what it's like to make memories
instead of regrets in size 11s.