This is what youth tastes like.
Starburst candies and milk from a school carton.
Gossip on the tongues of desk neighbors
Tote bags next to backpacks next to gym bags
Feet
One two
Skip three
Tiles under Adidas
Nike and Vans
UGG boots and their less name-brand counterparts
Moccasins, for the ones with sleep still in their eyes
Slides but no flip flops
They all walk
Or just sit
In the possibility of motion to a future life
This is phase one
And the sun is still bright outside
Even in rooms without windows.
Forbade wear headphones
But someone always does
And either blasts it so loud
That all you can hear is high hats
Or plays the music out in the open
Like the hallway is a concrete concert hall
We call this place hell but,
I don’t know if I want to leave this place.