when i was a kid,
it meant brunch at the club,
waffles, sweet syrup.

now adolescent,
inner party animal
discovered, unleashed.

i spent the evening
at starbucks - tea, peach danish
and petty discounts.

bus one-five-five stunk.
the ride cost sixty-five cents.
the club, six digits.

back home, poker den -
losing streaks and waning decks,
pizza and pepsi.

i began painting,
a few brushstrokes at a time.
panic, frenetic.

iron buddha tea -
mine and grandpa's favourite,
prudishness dreary.

right now, i'm weary.
i guess nostalgia can wait.
farewell, islander.



photocredits to gladzor