Waiting In The High School Parking Lot

My system is cranking at sixty percent

of it's 1350 watt capacity.

Everyone in seventh period

even those sleeping in class

or singing in chorus

can hear its'


booming bass.

My brother Brandon's going to ditch again,

like he always does.

Which is why

he asks me give him a ride.

He'll walk out of class with a note

one to go to the nurse

or maybe even just the bathroom.

Then instead he will walk right out the side doors

down the asphalt path

and into my 1984 Olds Cutlass Supreme.

I'll take him where-ever he wants to go.

We might even get to chill,

before I have to go to work

or our mom comes back to the house.

Because usually we try to avoid her.

He's taking longer than usual

so I spark the engine

light my cigarette and

crank the music a little higher

just in case he couldn't hear me.

But sure enough he bursts out

the side doors and

jumps into my car

cranks my system even louder

and we drive off to do something better with our time.