in our summer skin

we leave seatac, drive through university, pass shoreline, snohomish, my heart breaking a little bit with each familiar sign. we're on the 5 northbound, rental car sunroof open in pelting rain, empty cans of redbull and rockstar on the floor, and it feels like a juneau summer.

i stick loneliness, your lips, and the two coins of your eyes into my pockets

we chose tulalip as the lucky casino where we'd exercise our gambling prowess. we're downing pabst blue ribbon, we're calling pals in other places, friends forever, this is the wildest thing how fun and carefree, let's not get boring and have babies.

we are not so we are not given we are not sold on what we have seen

in 3 hours, we laugh ourselves back to the monte carlo. holy! he's made two grand, go big or go home, he's given me my plane ticket money back, and i'm still up 5 bens. now we're delirious on taurine, beer, coffee, and luck. this is for hawaii, he says. i say, you should change your last name to mcmonacle. we drink to health, happiness, and to being the solid of solidness, listen to a crazy game of poker, and head back to the tables.

take a shower and shine your shoes you got no time to lose you are young men you must be living go now you are forgiven

9am and it's time to leave for the airport. he has a crazy long run with the dice, makes another two grand. there's nothing in front of him but an army of green chips. we keep looking at it, looking at each other, laughing, holy!, everything is wonderfully fun. outside the casino time warp it's sunny. it feels like we've run a gauntlet. when our plane lands back home, i turn to him and say, i feel like rip van winkle waking up after 30 years. or maybe it's the other way around. i lived a lifetime while they've been sleeping.