some friday, a long time from now

tried and tempted. nothing more than a bottle of wine and a balcony view.
we'll throw pennies at the sidewalks below, only hoping for something fatal. something we can call real.
the strong can take our hands time and time again, but nothing will make us more giddy than to slip our greasy fingers through their hold and run.
we'll look back ten minutes later when we'll both double over, and you'll claim how you can't run while you're laughing.
with your hair on your tempid forehead, your cheeks perfectly flushed. oh, you're a sight for the faint hearted!
boothed merchants will push bracelets and goods on us, nothing we need but everything we hope for. a shiny jem, a seedless jam.
you'll claim to save those take-out containers due to laziness. but it's all to remember a good time - a better time. a time when no one counted calories, or minded the garlic breath. you'll save those containers forever if you have to.