How The Street Found Us

We all used to smoke, the kids don’t know that. It made us feel like cowboys and we listened to the Rolling Stones when they were cool. 

Back then we were drinking too much cheap brandy, burning weed in tight rolls and wearing too many colours, but life was short and you only ran once.

And no one wrote stories about sober old men, no, our heroes lived short flights through burning crimson skies and died in lead thunderstorms.

Our mamas would call our names but we’d get as much of the streetlights as we could before we had to eat.

And the laughter it carried our souls into the African setting sun through the dust and the smoke of every hard day. Back then we counted these moments like currency and paid for every second of our short lives.