there is a young disinterest
in the way you curve your back
or the way your neck bends
backwards when you laugh.
victim of chance, you keep on
taking shots in the dark.
and also taking shots
of crystal which will burn
us out,
I wonder how many times
you have been out,
out in cold alleys screaming
that the system will run
down on us.
(sometimes I consider
how much we are alike
but every trace
leads to nothing.)
there still so much in you
I haven't seen.
so much I can't reach.
there is so much I wanted to ask
about your life.
the people who talk
the less say the most sometimes.
there is a place
inside my head
I always go
but if I open up
I may fall
I'm scared I don't want this again
especially if there is no chance
you will feel the same.
now we'll be gone
part like total strangers.
because that is what school
does to us:
makes us strangers
monsters,
or ghosts.
guess you are
another long
shot?