Cream Soda

the body wash in my shower
smells exactly like cream soda,

the scent
is
unmistakable,

it reminds me
of warm summer nights
and Dum Dum
lollipops,

of jailbreak and lighted porches,

our laughter shattering
the
night, a curious
reflection marching through the dusk
as old ghosts slept

she never held my hand,
and I never asked,
the screen door
swung lazily behind us
back and forth,

the condensation on my glass
dampening my fingers,
the bottle on my lips
calming, cool,

into, out of the abyss
figures running toward us
in the
darkness,
we readied ourselves,
for,
in an instant
we
were
all
of
us
about
to
be
free