the boy from work.

we fling rubber bands at each others faces,

when one snaps past your bangs, you are not amused.

-

I watch you from the bottom of the ladder,

you are telling me a tale. my eyes are wide.

you watch me watching you.

-

the broken broom slides along the floor,

if we had made goals, you would have won.

-

"we are being teenagers." we boast,

over our whines and moans. our fingers hurt,

(not from anything fun) damn rubber bands.

-

we get spied on, and take it completely devoid of grace.

for we are awkward and both wearing strange socks.

we blow bubbles, and smoke pot in the back.

I answer phones and speak in complete sentences.

and we are both amazed, and proud.

-

-"we're terrible for each other! We're too destructive."

-"what are you talking about, we're perfect for each other."