Darkened town roads.
And the night is cold.
We have black hair.
With a blue stripe on the side.
Begin to walk to Bog Lots.
To find a black man with purps.
But a car pulls up.
He knows her.
I ask for some trees.
And he offers me the blow.
I smirk and understand.
It was the first time I heard and spoke "yayo".
And we drive to the house.
I memorize every turn and street name.
Because fifteen and sixteen isn't safe around 30.
We can't come in the garage.
Because we're smoking cigarettes.
Bendson and Hedges menthols.
Because we had ten cartons from my deceased grandmother.
Walk inside to fine a taped off section.
To the left of the cars.
Simple garage things.
Walk into the "Room".
One wall made of plaster.
The rest of blankets.
An attractive seventeen year old boy.
Chopped up on a cd case.
And I stare at a man's nose.
Which is swollen on one side.
They've said it eats your cartilage.
And his right nostril instilled the taboo of this drug.
Rolled up bills let it slither into my brain.
And trickle down my spine.
My right eye cries.
And I go numb.
We rub it in our gums.
And suck on our fingers.
She doesn't want to do it.
But I don't want to do it alone.
And she falls into my troubled life.
The boy dropped out of high school.
To become a Cocaine dealer.
I talk him into going to college.
Or believe for one night that he will.
Living in his grandparent's garage.
Four by ten feet.
She and I talk.
About why we have sex without care.
And our fathers.
And our future.
They pass around a clear glass bong.
Neither of us join.
We walk out the room to leave.
And I get lost in a poster of two green frogs.
With red eyes.
I swear it's alive.
I swear it's crawling out.
We get in the car.
And only one seat belt can be buckled in.
I let her have it.
Because I would die for her.
She was worth more than me.
After a month of hello.
I pay attention to the way they go.
And I can feel at ease once we reach Fair Oaks Boulevard.
They drop us odd on the corner of Grant.
4:30 in the morning.
A cop speed by and make a u-turn.
He pulls into her drive way.
And I stare at the lights.
Imagining a circus.
Within a second, I had a panic attack.
And accepted the fact I was going to jail.
And my parents would know.
I walked up to the car.
And they asked if we ran away from a foster center.
We replied, "No".
And we were offended to be thought of as thirteen year olds.
Walk into her house.
She sleeps on the couch.
I sleep on the rug.
Our first night together at her place.
We go to school in the morning.