173

We were not wise or brave, merely young.
We did not think of the future,
too frightened and anxious to ever dream
we would not be in a school.

Fifteen years out of twenty locked
up in steel and brick, running away
to the Shore, any Shore,
in the summers and springs of our lives.

Once we went into the heart
of New York, we drove blindly,
not caring that we had papers
and projects due in a week.

We didn't talk, we sang on and on.
Don't stop believing, hold on to that feeling...
Our anthem for the past two years.

We pretended like we could be
those boys who only had to sing
a song to win the girl.
Some pretended to be those girls
who had songs sung about them.

We learned those songs like they were all we had.
We smoked all the pot we could get our hands on,
drank until we remembered we were cool.
Once in a while we'd win that girl we'd pined after.

Years spent pretending we didn't care and
our responses came quick. When they asked:
"Are you OK?" We would lie: "I'm fine. It's all right."

We watched our friends graduate and found
our way through the woods every spring.
At the end of each year we would put off work
for a few days so we wouldn't miss a thing.

When it was all happening it felt perfect.
You could taste happiness in the air
and driving drunk to the Hess station
didn't seem like a bad idea.

You could smell the pot in the wind
and that last beer, from hours ago,
still kept your belly full.