I’m on the bus in Mont-Dauphin
young sunburned boys are looking at sunburned girls
with low cut tops and tan marks on their thighs
taking the overnight Intercités train
where sleep is found in drizzling dots of lights and darkness
interspersed with wolves
Perpignan, Marquixanes, no stop beckons
but memories pile, like popping candy
fizzes in your mouth just long enough
to remind you how you once felt
in your own brand of youth
dirty and wide-eyed from the road
anticipating wonder
TheFeatheredSleep 