Friday, March 21,2008

Friday, March 21, 2008. Saddle up. Head out into the desert without water. They've got plenty of blood and sweat. Pass out for oil. This is your morning wake-up call.

(A boy sits at a desk in an empty classroom, white shirt with sleeves rolled up withtwo no. 2 pencils that he pushes back and forth across the wood. A cigarette behind his ear.that he constantly checks for with fingers running through his hair.)
Growth. The shadows sit with lit cigarettes between fingers, the light breaking from the ash. I walked a crooked line, buttoned up, looking for the lights to grow brighter from the talking in of breaths. Inhaling smoke, exhaling laughter. Some have flickering teeth, flickering eyes, dropping their focus. Tomorrow there's a party, for swollen thoughts and bodies and, chances are, we're going to get bruised. Wake up.