New Year’s Eve, 1982

I was standing on the hood of my car-

A four-wheel drive Japanese wagon that they

Sold the Hell out of in the 80’s.

This one was white with new muddy footprints and size 12 dents

On the hood.

It’s two a.m. I yelled

-The shank of the evening!

Though I didn’t know what that meant.

Just that I’d heard my old man say it.

We have to rally men! I yelled, my schnapps bottle drained.

-We have to head deeper into town to follow the glow!

Nobody wanted to get back into the car.

Upstairs, a window opened.

-You best shut up and get in the house now or I swear to Christ I will sell that car tomorrow!

The posse snickered and I remember smelling weed.

-You assholes go on home and leave him be!

Up the street came a cruising black and white;

No lights, just assessing…

Someone in the crew coughed

-Cops.

And they all melted into the darkness.

I was alone

-marching in place on the roof feeling it sway and buckle under my clomping boots.

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