An old friend called me tonight. Kinda odd cause I haven’t talked to Max in ten years. I remember our last time together; he
curled his hair around his finger (old habit), and told me that I couldn’t teach him anymore. It was an odd end to things. I
remember mostly the drugs, disapproving not really vibing on the notion. I defiantly changed my tune on drugs. And now
seeing Max years later, so peculiar, and polite. I felt something, wondered if that was what memories were about.
I don’t know Max anymore. I know he sounds the same, and I know his gestures, but the past meeting the present?
My relationship with Max was all music and poetry. We’d stay in the basement apartment of his parent’s home and talk about
art, and sleep to music.
So now I get to see him on Sunday. We’ll chat over coffee, and catch up, very peculiar.