put the towel on the rack
let the steam create him
as a mold
contemplate space and time
and how he can never get
it back
wishes he could go back
just to watch or give
advice
wishes he could sieze
the day and practice what
he preaches.

And me and Rob
would go driving on
two gallons of gas
with no where to go
we didn’t have a phone
we’d just drive and hope
that something
would happen
to keep us
occupied
for a couple more hours
until we got sick of
wandering around the middle school
and looking at instruments
we couldn’t afford
and finally had to
head home
where we’d sit in the alley
’till the cops came and
threatened to arrest us
if they saw us there again.

Those were the days.