the shenanigans were always different, like geological activity - a volcano - an earthquake - a tsunami. a disruption, was the word. you said it with gritted teeth and a wicked smile. you said it and you clenched your(more) fist walking outside the school after hours, it was just the two of us and the biting winter cold in the middle of March.
always something different: stealing stop signs, graffiti - nothing crude, you insisted. the swoop of a treble clef. the first stanza of Prufock, etherized on the granite tableau of the highway overpass. you drew maps to secret and abandoned places.
we stole your mom's car, and didn't dent it, but it smelled like gin for weeks.
i thought you were wild, but it turns out it was all the same. every move to the step of our erratic dance blistered the heels. it wore us down in the same places. we shuffled and kicked pebbles in the cold. we snapped rubber bands on our wrists and drew on bony kneecaps through the rips in our distressed jeans.
we were sad, this never changed. and then i was sad - alone.
i don't know where you are, but i can't say i ever did. this is, i realize, expected. this is predictable.(less)