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and cartwheels
without killing herself?)
Those days, Chase came by
to take me home and stop
by the park for a good long
make-out session.
I invited him to share my stash.
He took a snort or two,
but declined
the tinfoil routine.
I let him get away
with it the first time.
On his second refusal,
I asked why not.
He shrugged.
I’ve set boundaries.
I Meant
to analyze
Chase’s limits
that very weekend,
to learn
just how far
I could stretch
him at the edges,
to judge
how wide
I might warp
his self-imposed
morality.
Don’t ask me
