On a Beautiful Friday Night
I’m greeted by the scent of vanilla
In the chill of the Friday night air
That followed the three blondes who walked by me.
The length of their denim shorts
And talks of booze
Signal they most likely won’t be returning home together
On Saturday morning.
I hear a glass bottle suddenly shatter upon hitting the asphalt
After being mutilated and thrown by the shirtless smoking kid
With the yellow cap
Stopped by the red light in his rusted Ford F-150
As I turn the corner of Dewey and Tennessee Street
In hopes of making my way to the coffee shop before it closes.
The street sounds like pounding bass drums and familiar radio tunes
Behind the screams of a herd of drunk boys in collar shirts
Hailing cabs and shouting something with “f*ck”
At the girls across the street.
I make my way passed the building
With red lit letters that spell “Oil Change Service”
And wonder who’s in the back of the ambulance
That’s usually waiting beneath them
- And what the inside of an ambulance looks like.
Normal Greenbaum’s voice sings “Spirit in the Sky” as I approach the coffee shop.
Once inside, I take the seat by the window that offers a front row view of
The Yelling, Smoking, Cussing, Drinking, Puking, Tumbling, Falling, Laughing, Kissing,
Crying, and Betraying.
How I wish I could say this window is all that divides me from them.
Comments about this poem (On a Beautiful Friday Night by Mitchell Gonzalez )
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