Don’t go yet, I said,
because the car keys are lost.
Where are you supposed to go without them?
And I’m not done yet and I prefer you don’t you walk out on nights.
What are you going to do, walk home?
What then? Then they’ll know our story
isn’t a story at all
and that our timeless American adolescence
I remember being so proud.
And you would just shake your head.
You’ve no right to be the peacock of the bunch, you’d say.