The Coast

My dreads smell like campfire. Sand still permeates my clothes. The ocean waves welcomed us. We got drunk, sang to the stars, painted our names on the walls, argued the collapse of the world, and reveled in the companionship of our community. Acquaintances became friends. Strangers became the same. Time means nothing. The birds sang as I slunk to the floor and slept.

Last night excited me. The prospect of summer excites me. Friendship is anarchy. I am an anarchist.