Sell it, the bolts, & the boots.
Words and art: Melissa Mason
Who am I without you? Once you were reve d’enfance. I’d sketch you in rounds. Over and under, in and out. The purist perceptions that made me bunny hop like your speedometer.
These were the realest lalalas before you turned into so e kind of matter. You mattered, I just didn’t know how yet. Hours into oblivion, I imagined how your lines intersected.
How I’d be riding you. Where.