after Baudelaire
In twos and threes on bedspreads the color of sand
Anywhere in suburban America they turn
Their parallel painted toes to the horizon
Finding a target almost without knowing it hand
On hand together as on a hand-drawn
Ouija board they select
A number to dial a name to call and deflect
The reputation that would land on them
They betray their confidences with confidence
Some of them used to walk through the last wild stand
Of maples behind the cul-de-sac snapping the saplings
Calling each other crybabies they mock experience
And mock my lack of experience
Their net composed of telephone cords
Night after night brings up ghosts
Lantern fish and anglerfish with their intense
Lures are not more fit more deftly set
For such secretive nights such high-pressure atmospheres
Such canticles of devotion to amoral gods
Some of them open the liquor cabinet
In an otherwise empty household and discover
The pleasure of Limoncello and headachy sleep
Some of them mock me for paying
Too much for a sparkly tunic or for looking cheap
They say your black bracelets and grave
Demeanor augur solitary nights
But your slutty hoop earrings must hurt You liked
The right boys but in the wrong order You called it a rave
But it was not a rave You are too good
An accessory kiss-off show-off You disgust
Our modesty You have nothing to show They place air quotes
Around your life so you learn not to trust
Yourself any more than they trust
One another because you still crave
Their pathetic and fleeting attention O monstrous martyrs
With your emerald contact lenses O terrible saints
Of hypocrisy penlites and brave
Cursive in sealed envelopes You understand
How some of us you reject will never forget you
We will grow up to study your mistakes
As means of navigation You wanted to keep
Us from becoming like you but we will not let you