Adults warned us about time, but we danced wildly

while the orchestra of youth was still vibrant.

Grip tape on the skateboard was fresh.

Grass stains on denim were a welcoming mess.

Warmth of the kitchen stove inside was nourishing.

Choking laughter was flourishing.

The alarm in the morning was a soothing maternal touch.

Missing sleep didn’t matter all that much.

Well, the rent is due now, and we’re late for work.

Gas tank is on empty, and the harrassing chimes from our phones won’t stop.

Rear view mirror exposes wrinkles, swollen eye bags, and grey hair.

The streetlights are on now, I guess.

Our youth is tucked in, sleeping peacefully.

Later, alligator.

It’s time to clock in.