2humid summer night, we stacked
underage bodies into separate
cars, stealth driving to backroad
backfield locations – hiding
booze from parentals, rent-a-cops,
anyone with adult credentials.
we thought we were bad; party
all night, we said, and drank
from industrial-sized bottles
of vodka and peach schnapps,
danced to car stereo hip hop
beats, puked, passed out, or sat
in the backseat, watching with
nervous eyes as the car's lcd
clock radio display flickered
to 3:02 a.m.; and i was the only
sober one that night, waiting
for a ride back to town, then
sitting on a yellow washer in
the all-night laundromat, heart
thumping, wanting nothing more
than to go back and do it again.
A/N: Truth.