Songs of Freedom; Dreams of Everything Else

Copper illumination of the street lights
Our shadows floating  around us like our souls peaking out of our humbled flesh
as if trying to remind us how simple it is to be gone from this  
hairy  
disrespected  
caccoon of a body,
Black heads and eyeliner
Mosquito bites finding new hiding places in the crevices of my being;
 
One day I might forget this feeling
These streets romantacized with the butterfly affect
But for now we are here
Taking pictures on porch steps we couldn't decide To be inhabited or not  
and dancing in the shrinking dusk;
 
We sing songs of freedom
 
And act like we know what it means  
Despite all the bogged up feelings
Guilt trips hanging out car windows
And calls from mother  
 
We dress politely awkward
 
Ammused by the simplicity of no bras
Or cute ones
Thrift store jackets  
And lipglosses  
We find  
Lose  
and find again  
in many different purses and drawers;
 
So this is what it's like to be 17
"The dancing queen"
Drives home passed curfew
Cutting pictures out of magazines
Dirtied shirts we sniff and wear again  
Laugh into our friends hoping we look pretty
Even though we may never know who is watching if anyone;
 
We have sat on carpets in strangers basements
Watching bands play  
songs we hadn't decided if we enjoyed yet
 
And we have  sat in attics too
Wondering if this is what youth tastes like
Wondering if it is
how much it takes to get you drunk
 
And I know
That sometimes
Those moments felt too movie like
For me to stop myself from replaying them over and over again
Too blarringly raw
For me to give up on wanting more;
 
Yes -
I suppose I will always want more
 
I smile  

And keep spinning