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A Good One

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After already having lost some of our kind
to the hungry university beast,
we drove home together
in the cool ending of summer.
We shared a pipe full of
dried plant and
meditated over our fears
and hopes
for the last time
before those of us who
remained, would be swallowed up, too.
Vin controlled the songs that
poured out of Alex’s radio,
while Mike and I sat in the back seat,
just listening.
I wondered, in my stupor,
if I would ever sit like this
with them again,
even though the night
felt as though it could easily carry on
forever.
I knew the beast would get us;
such is the destiny of the offspring
of suburban middle-class whites.
But it was easier to feel that it was not
truly coming
before the flights started leaving,
and before our last joy ride
neared a close.
As we pulled closer and closer to the driveway,
Vin asked, “which song?”
and Alex said, “I don’t know, man, but it’s going to be our last one right now,
so make it a good one.”



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