You lost your sock and we still ain’t found it yet...

Late July was fast. Thunderstorms and lsd and rain. There was so much rain that day. I was three tabs in when you knocked on my door. Drenched, holding that old ass Gibson, with the broken string.

You were too sober and too alone. You needed the boost and I needed you. I threw back my rum and coke and tucked the bottle away.

You were tense and awkward and scared and...

we were both wondering how we'd ended up here. With you and that Gibson, drenched from the rain. We'd talked Hemingway and The Stones and Hunter S. Thompson and you were too stoned to tune your guitar.

But, you played me old nirvana songs and Marcy's Playground until I'd led you upstairs.

You'd let me in, when we'd made love. Something like a flash out of a movie scene. With Sex and Candy playing... somewhere in the background.