Zoned Out

I watched them skate back and forth,
Illuminated by the amber sky
And I sat on my porch.
Constants let the mind fall docile,
The yellowish reflection of the hyacinth
The stammering of the wind-chimes
The seedy boys surging up and down the ramp and
The sweatshirt that smelled of sandalwood,
The one I wouldn’t ever give back.

It was as if the sump-pump in my head broke
And conjured up the romantics that were
Caged like hake ready to be sold and
Now they percolated through my head,
Even when the boys stopped skating
And sauntered down my driveway.
The one with clammy hands asked
With eyes widening if he could
Laminate my smile, and with this
Realization my trance collapsed.
His all-knowing smirk reemerged
As I grabbed his skateboard and rolled away.