When I was young,
I resembled nobody.
In the middle of the room,
the beautiful girls
practiced dance steps
like “The Grind,”
admiring each other’s hair
and clothes: I love
your elephant pants, that
disco shirt, that belt
with an apple on the buckle!
We gathered around a table
in someone’s smoke-
filled basement, listening
to guitar music, talking
about the future, always
the future, and how to get
away from here. Someone
passed around a bottle,
a rolled-up joint: Try it,
it’s just like smoking
paper. But I
was young and resembled
no one I knew.
At least not then,
not yet.
[LAG-other-response date=”09 25 2014″ url=” https://www.vianegativa.us/2014/09/hill-country/” title=”Via Negativa: Hill country”]