And then there was Byron Street. When me, Roolie, Katie, and Dex were outside The Bad Wolf and Crazy Eddie (the band) was playing heavy metal blues. Traffic moved by, bright blue red purple cars shining under the street lights. The music poured out of the door and along the ground and bounced off the small yellow orange rocks encased in concrete on the garbage can, shimmering and stinking. Dex blew his smoke straight up in the air. Trying to look cool. He liked Katie back then.
“You are my pocket friend,” Katie said to Roolie, almost yelling at him though they were no more than three feet apart.
“Ah. My itchy toe rash. You sweet.” Roolie tried to see what was going on inside The Bad Wolf, swaying like a boxer to get a better look.
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the typewriter poet favorites reblogged! 