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outside the alley
Folder:
Lesser-ish poems so i don't know what i was thinking, man,
maybe it was those two joints before bowling, let calm ensue and giggle until we can't breathe, too funny it hurts
and all she had was one puff made her loose and fuzzy
but she had one hell of a bowling game
and that girl that i want to hate kept looking at us, and others would watch her too
until i invited her along with us, feeling like the gang of kool kids who fail math and phys ed
we stood behind a dumpster and the little ember was all the light there was
she told me: this, this stuff in her hand, had ruined her, she would get fired for doing what i am letting her do
but she'd been doing it for weeks, unbeknownst to those who had left the bowling alley carrying shoes and balls eyeing us carefully before driving away in their too-expensive automobiles
that gay bar downtown, man, some chick had thrust a roach her way and it started it all so why can't i let her make decisions and give up the belief that i was there, that i had something to do with all of this?
