taco tuesday

last night were taking shots, perched above the crowd, and have i lost it? have i lost it? its a game were always playing and i pick my pieces and shoot them looks across bars and tell people i'll be right back, slip dip diving into the night, running, giggling, always looking behind me.
i remember the afternoon jo rode d's bike and i couldnt help looking back behind me to make sure she was there, not drifting off into the wild traffic, the wild afternoon. when did my sleepy ocean friend start wearing heels that give her blisters, my sand toed blonde best friend is sitting in dark bars with me and i take her to the shittiest neighborhood, where the italian restaurants flow into the street, all white tablecloths and white teeth and white, white, white. give me a job, hire me and i promise i wont talk shit, the streets are quiet except for pools of boys outside bars, girls wearing backwards baseball hats and i always feel more nervous here, more out of place, rubbing elbows with crisp suits and stiff make up smiles, my hands get clammy and im ten years old and cant get any words out, but tequila makes me brave and soon im swiping lip gloss on and prowling, a cat, a 23 year old cat, sleek, and slick. i dont know how my best friend has found herself in this city overnight, a city of vultures, waiting to descend, of deep dark nights and twisty mornings, of tired eyes and ragged edges, how did my quiet mountain friend find herself sleeping to traffic and rush, city rush, its moving and moving and fighting , my friend got into a fight last night and broke someones arm, you know, the friend who kissed you, and fleeing.
were all running. i want to settle down. i want to keep her safe. keep us safe.
i dont want to worry about my friends and the people i love so much. i want to send them off into their day and quit worrying. i want josie to stop worrying about her father who wont call her back, just call her back, we need to stop worrying. it gives us wrinkles and pits in our stomach. makes us drink shadows and sleep with windows shut for the quiet. windows as metaphors for boys and our friends in borrowed sweats watching greys. but please. please. just for a minute. just for a minute, be quiet, stop looking right through me, like you know me, only my boy looks at me like that. everyone feels entitled to a piece of something around here, i just want josie to be safe, i want all these people with their grabby hands to back the fuck off. give me some space. a little space to keep safe.