Multnomah Park at 17

blue drives us in

their mom’s old station wagon

careening to the steep top

of the cemetery hill where

we meet mitchell and naomi 

to watch the sunset

picnicking with all

the audacity of four

high schoolers— 

self proclaimed writers 

byronic romantic types 

(thank you to AP Lit)

we have just raided our parents 

pantries and now 

on the bluff of the cemetery

cheers with our stale organic 

oreo knock offs

crumbs of salt and vinegar 

kettle chips under our fingernails

and when mitchell procures dessert

it’s a tiny bit of weed tucked 

into an altoids tin

we are all acting so classy 

pretending we do this often

pushing a pen through 

an apple to smoke

as the sun turns golden

we roll our bodies down the hillside

everything feels so green and 

i feel this is how it will always be

sharing the last oreo with naomi

watching mitchell and blue

laughing so hard as they

half heartedly wrestle

perched on the hill i know

i know we will write something 

someday that matters 

the air is rich

my throat aches

my heart is a candle split 

and pooling