They´re Too Young-poem by Ron Androla

They meet like lightning smashing her door. They smile like broken shell light. They think smoking Old Gold cigarettes in New Hampshire is melodramatic. They taste White Russians coating each other's tongues as they sweetly initially kiss, saliva milk pulls like long connecting hairs. Golden prisms melt together as love. Dissolve one into one into one into everything. They share chocolate mescaline on Easter break in college. The blue sky's pushed by enormous New Hampshire mountains crushing onyx shaft ceilings. Stars burst into lit dust & slide into rearing horse-shaped treetops, rolling shadows of cows in the mountains. The field glows with night dew. Maple veins shake off loads of sparkling sugar. They want to laugh at sweetness. They want to fuck. Suck. Grin. Growl. Purring like dusky cats, they lick comfortable genitals. They smell like vivid skunk pot & strawberry sundown incense smoke. They hear screaming, yet they giggle. They giggle, & screams burn the fields. An orange circle, a metaphoric hawk, expands ebony fire with winds of breath. They realize what's real life & no light. They falsely marry other people. They fondly remember chocolate mescaline in New Hampshire, hunger in the burn of strong White Russians, grinning intense sex. 22 years shoot thru serendipitous, miraculous phone-lines. The universe clucks & roarslike partial elements & echoes.Roars. They embrace in a steamy cliche on a 4 a.m. train platform. They glow with golden fog-light. They're stunned. 4 decades later, love's repetitive cosmic time in eerie Erie, Pennsylvania. They are open, as senior citizens, to swallowing chocolate mescaline again. Poem by Ron Androla Drawing by Janne Karlsson