Just Say No
Location
But you held fast because it was the right thing to do.
Right?
Because the scent of sweet Mary Jane would linger on those pressed Polos
And possibly stain.
Pressed Polos even back in 9th grade
When just a tacky tye-dye shirt would have done.
Because plastic red is not your preference, it never was
You always preferred holy wine, from gold chalices
Because curiosity obviously never killed this cat
So you’re here and still scared.
Scared to know that maybe even students at prep schools don't use halos and wings to fly
but instead soar on hallucinatory, pensive clouds with grey
goosebumps up each vertebra at just the thought
that to relieve the stress of turning AP chemistry paper pages at midnight
scholars of this generation y credulously roll chemistry into paper
Just like you baby boomers did
and the lucky few, decades before you
and probably even those hardtimers
But you always said
No
Right?
And so they should
Just Say No.
“It’s simple, It’s easy, You need to take control of yourself”
But see,
Mr. Mrs.
It’s humiliating
No, exasperating
To tell failure stories of just saying ….‘yea, sure”
To you, who won’t even consider
That the most promising students would break promises
So easily.
Those tin can chains that we used to whisper our impermissible secrets through
Were exchanged for shamelessly tainted red solo cups long ago
So your admonishing shouts of
“Just Say No! Just Say No! Just Say No!”
Are too brazen for our malleable eardrums
And maybe you will not accept that,
The future steps on the same glass shards that your past did
But
Mr. Mrs.
Please direct us,
Once you’ve inspected the glass that has broken,
That needs to be pieced back
Once you’ve found that the cause was not poor design.
Just as much as you
I want to snap my friends back into reality,
Not because I’m superior or lofty in a straight edge throne,
But because it’s sad to see them
Vomiting up honours classes and scholarships
with last night’s meatloaf and their parents unyielding trust
Inhaling thick smoke clouds and exhaling the last clarity of sunny days
Swallowing down bitter dregs of Canned Heat in hopes to ignite emotions they don’t feel
It’s sad for me too.
But all you can do is listen
To “First Time” stories,
To “all the time” stories,
To “I quit” stories,
To ‘I’ve started again” stories
To “It’s really not addictive” stories
All you can do is ask questions and
Watch faces turn befuddled
Like children threw pebbles into puddles,
Surfacing insecurities