by Tiffany Belieu Eric Nopanen A radio speaks, suddenly like an old friend. Garage band Sunday grace. Stolen drugstore perfume. Ran the cheap stuff across your wrist. Scent of Summer 97’, baby oil & snuck cigarettes. You taught me how to curl my lip, to make a fist. An unending bruise throbs velvet violence. Our adolescence, the suddenness of you going. Left no scars but a constant sharpness —  glass just beneath skin. Each time our movie plays until it degrades, until our fa