I - “Do you guys think I'll ever get a girlfriend?”
We discuss love at an age where we don’t know what love is,
but we dream anyway.
A partner, a fiancé, maybe a marriage.
No children, but too many cats.
Some fictional character and a
“Hear me out-”
The pink waves in the sky above us laugh at our naivety,
the same way our parents do,
but all we see tonight is the colors.
Not the meaning,
because we only find our meaning within ourselves.
II - “If the zombie apocalypse started right now, what would y’all do?”
Of course no one wants to face a disaster,
but if it was inevitable,
we would want to face it with the people
who lay under this burning night sky.
Fantasizing about taking abandonment on the chin
and rebuilding society in a world of our own.
It’s selfish, we know it well,
but what’s a bit of selfishness in exchange for cheap laughs?
We point out the green licks winding through fog
and relate it to an airborne disease
here to whisk us away into the horrible scenario,
the one that revolves around us,
that we’ve conjured up within ourselves.
III - “Do you think we’ll drift apart?”
A few kids can’t stop the inevitable
like in the YA novels we read under our covers at midnight.
We are a lot bigger of a lump under our covers now
and our old favorite books are horribly written now that we’ve become storytellers.
The test of time may be passed for a lifetime,
but it’s just as reasonable to fail it in a few years,
or a few weeks.
Because we’re not bound by rings and steady rope
we are just human hands in a pile waiting for
“On three!”
The night sky beams down its purple ribbons
in hopes to tie us together for just a little longer.
Under this sky laughing and crying at ourselves.
IV - “Would y’all care if I died?”
Maybe we watch too many movies,
or play too many video games with dark plots,
but we can’t say we wouldn’t care.
Our depression would kickstart a narrative,
start change that we assume is impossible with us all alive.
Spending hours telling stories of the worst to happen,
and our romanticization helps us ignore the gravity of death.
We’d prefer to be Ponyboy or Jesse James instead of going to school,
and we’d prefer to be Jason Todd or Mari instead of living out our lives.
Blue lights cry for us in painted rivers,
feeling the worry we bottled within our stomachs,
and the longing to be something bigger than ourselves.
V - “Are we really gonna grow up?”
The northern lights twinkle above us,
and we cannot answer our own question,
so, we ask this phenomenon who has been listening to us all night.
There was no response, we weren’t expecting one,
but we felt this hope,
this belief,
that we’ll grow enough to miss this moment.