I WANT TO BE AN ALOOF TWENTY-SOMETHING, EVEN IF IT’S A FALLACY

Pallets on a roof, aloof twenty-somethings on their coop-like balconies, bent arms of machinery, many miles from the farms of our ancestry.   Messed up love, kissing on the pavement, rolling in kebab, dancing with someone, everyone, in a cramped bar, water dripping from the ceiling on the bartenders head, a roving hand on your…