Music thumps
bass booming through your feet
into your heart
and out to your fingers
that grip your flimsy red cup
filled to the brim with froth
like the room
filled with people
and lots of air
that's filled with sweat and voices
that smell like the alcohol
that no longer sits in the bottles and cans
you see covering every surface
you walk from group to group
taking and adding to each conversation
that passes through your clouding mind
that is still watching
that girl flip her hair
as she talks to the boy
that has his hand
on the *** of another girl
who's laughing with the people
she would never talk to
if she wasn't holding
that cup
that matches yours
and his
and hers
and theirs
that slosh over a little when they
dance all close and grimy
because our culture promotes
flippancy
which feels a lot like
fun
and you're not quite sure
how you've noticed that
everyone is leveled
because they're so
high on life and love
and drinks and drugs
and it doesn't quite make sense
but you come to the conclusion
in your mildly impaired state
that all that stuff in movies
isn't all that fake
No, it's just High School