She was the one I blamed things on.
We smoked catnip in my closet
then moved up to pot.
She introduced me to grown men
then dated them. I did not.
I remained untouched
while she threw herself into love
heartbreak more love
feeding on rejection.
Her drama convinced me
not to let myself get caught.
I yearned for boys my own age
who smiled at me in the halls
went out with others at night.
At night I followed her.
We crashed parties where we thought there’d be pot
or adults willing to let us drink.
Sometimes we ended up in respectable
suburban homes
the only teenagers
uninvited
slipping out embarrassed
walking down dark streets
ashamed
we were so desperate.
Going back to her house and smoking down
the old roaches
stealing sweet liquor
waiting to be invited
to the next one.
