I know I was there. The house in the city in the shadows, it crumbled, the roaches ate the pile of canned meat we dumped out on the sidewalk. We shot at those walking with a BB gun, and we burnt the front lawn with a fire started in a toilet that had been dragged out from the bathroom after I had broken it while drunk and stoned, and I did not realize that porcelain burned good with enough heat applied to it, stuffed with pieces of broken fence. We laughed and laughed and drank the wine, stolen or given to us, but somehow we had it.
Down the street was an abandoned high school. Razor barbed wire rimmed the campus, we hopped the fence, nothing but broken glass and pigeon shit. We went into the locker room and saw the holes dug out of the world beneath the stained tile of the shower stalls. Where the homeless crawled in and out, and the murderers were found hiding.
How long will I remember, until the brain matter fades, getting old like my father on a six pack and half pint a day, his dreams gone "bye," maybe not so sure whether or not life actually happened.