A fucked-up 14-year-old skates in the church parking lot and says to you, "This is how we pass the time in the evenings." You feel hard-focus, ready to toss away a talent to organize groups, and walk away, seeing people watch you and whisper in passing, "This is happening constantly."
Her plush old van looks crazy in front of my house even though neighbors know bad. She is high and says she has acid. We are older now. She wants to take me to the playground, and I say, “This is perfect.” Her dad had just said, “I know with me you feel less alone, but now you’re going to have to be on your own.” She told him, “You don’t look sleek. You lack style. You look weak.” Then she tells me, “I know what you need. And where to get it. And what it costs.” She says the night will go up in stoges and to start counting.
Her plush old van looks crazy in front of my house even though neighbors know bad. She is high and says she has acid. We are older now. She wants to take me to the playground, and I say, “This is perfect.” Her dad had just said, “I know with me you feel less alone, but now you’re going to have to be on your own.” She told him, “You don’t look sleek. You lack style. You look weak.” Then she tells me, “I know what you need. And where to get it. And what it costs.” She says the night will go up in stoges and to start counting.
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