mud
sweat
beers
the many words they help to conjure
rides and runs and
bitter cold
with blue sky – and snow
benches dedicated only be filled with you
– together
street lamps lonely and frozen
out of place
off the grid
mysteries
water balloons shot at distant trains
epic battles with snow balls
with fevers
overheating and overeating
the “phew!”
the proud
the in-betweens
and you
muse you are and muse you do
now life can be lived without you
the sieve and the sand 
Nice! By reading the first line of this poem, I knew that you were the author. Then I realized that by simply reading the first lines of the poems posted on the S&S, I know who the authors are. Actually, sometimes the title itself is a giveaway… For some reasons, I felt good about it; I thought that if some of you (the more, the better) become huge/successful/big shot authors then I will be able to recognize your styles, and brag to myself about it. Talking about you, I will say “I saw his first flashes of genius, I was there, I saw what was/is to come…”
I blame the cold medicine for what’s written above; however, within delirium lies some truth … I think (:
haha,
and here i was thinking this was one of the clearest, best captured poems i’d written in a while.
i thoroughly enjoyed it.
why thank you