the girls huddle,
wallflower themselves
away from the bell-toll
of mean-girl chatter
gucci gang comes on,
& a few blood-boys
come out with juul-destoryed lungs
and sip their smuggled *** punch
someone shouts 'begone, thot'
& instead, i vanish,
into summer-stretched air.
you're only young once, &
then there's the in-between
of reunion. the late night fiends stay
until the sun peaks
through the cracks in the
façade of adulthood.
finally, somewhere near
the end of the night,
the intercom comes on.
the superintendent asks us to leave,
the bathroom is filled with brûléed vapor
& the ground has become as much of an ashtray
as the dirtied mouthes of those still dancing,
drunk enough to numb the memories of
the worst three years
of our collective life.
when the chorus of
**** that, *******
fades out,
it's because the system is
crackling again
& everyone's head is turning to the soft voice asking;
where are you now?
what have you done?
are you perfect yet?
They didn't let me read this poem at my middle school talent show.
