Scribbling In Atlas's

for katherine

she could stab her car key into the bottom of any beer can

finish it in a time that made older guys want to bring her home

she knows how to win every card game in the book

her name is smeared on pong and die tables all over the state

she could hold her liquor in a way that

secretly every father hoped their daughter could

but nobody notices that around the hour of 3A.M

as she greedily pours out whatever substance is left in the fridge

of the passed out, yet carefree individual who

is probably just as confused as she is,

down the kitchen sink

and casually walks out the front door

--

before she left for this place

someone told her

you should always have another person with you

no matter where you go

she quickly realized

being alone is so safe, it's dangerous

she liked that

she spent most of her time alone

she never once coughed after taking rips off the cheap bongs

of boys who's mothers would cry if they were to find one under their bed back at home

she could roll joints tighter and fatter then every drop out she knew

better then any frat boy who tried to engage her in depthless conversations

she could taste the finest herb simply by looking at it

she could touch the grains of rock in a line and know exactly where they came from

she could not understand, however, how she became bored

not the type of bored your DARE program warns you about

with hospital visits and lamaze classes, but, 

the type of bored that arises in the morning of an april vacation day

when a little girl gazes past the pain of glass in her bedroom window

only to discover a wash of rain

and the little girl, the little girl wants so badly

so badly to dive right out, right out of her window

into the eye of the storm, into the pools that have formed under the gutters

her mother tells her she will catch a cold

little girls with freshly ironed spring dresses should not be playing in puddles

the little girl loves her mother

she does not rebel

she simply sits and wonders

what the rain would feel like

on her elbows and the back of her neck

as she ponders all the magnificent adventures she cold endure inside

she knows she will feel it someday

someday soon

not just against her elbows or the back of her neck

but her whole being

she stopped going to parties

she began scribbling in atlas's