Soos Creek

They went into the woods to get laid,
or buzzed off the booze that someone
managed to score, rationing sips, a dozen
hungry-young-gargling mouths congealed
to the same tiny spout of recyclable aluminum,
and no one minded after so much time. Like
the patches of used condoms left on the grass, or hung
from the bare tree limbs in autumn like a precursory
Christmas tree, and no one minded, because they
all thought that this was how it was supposed to be.
Like the nightingale-sounds in the dark heard between
howls of the winter wind blocking out all other noise,
or the blur of its movement on the ground, you can
hear it, though you may never see it, or that same
sound in the trees - the wind like a groan, or a laugh,
or a footfall as it broke the sound barrier in trespassing
over the chain link fence because it was expected. Put there
as a dare for them to prosecute, and the deeper they went
into the woods the less careful they became in covering
their footprints. Like the specters of four boys leaning
against a car in the snow, lightened ochre, hazy like fog
against so much white. Like the girls shivering along the
fence-line, laughing, looking, playing their parts, because
everything else just got old after so much time.


a/n: written for the april wcc via the review game.