II. Fall

I'm here again

at the dam, where you told me not to go

with the boy you said was a waste of time

and that first cigarette between my fingers, hanging off my lips even though

I promised you I wouldn't try them.

But I did, and now I'm here.

In this wasteland of sand not good for driving, weeds not good for walking, and water not good for swimming- though I've done all three tonight.

Tomorrow I'll realize you were right,

but for tonight your words linger in the shadows like

the mountain lions we know are here, but they say don't live in these woods.