Not sure what to call this, short story poem maybe. Tell me what you guys think

“Montego” by Steve Rich

…was just that kid, twisting dandelions in his eyes whilst an innocent smile danced on your lips, the sun is pretty. We stand next to one another- in bright white shirts, and confused stained faces; we are children. So “I don’t know” is valid, and “maybe” is yes, and “I love you” doesn’t taste like vodka. Nothing in our heads but screws, and unicorns, we rock like those pebbles in our sandles. Our smiles are lust-less, and we get so high, we overdose on the Earth’s oxygen. We’re ignorant, and fortunate. The less, the better; I don’t pay bills, but you do blow bubbles, circling our heads with sin-tri-fi-cull force. I miss us. I miss us. I miss us. The film has run out, no more play. Wake up now, you have class in a few “ours”.


About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
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