Out at the edge of the property
Of my high school
Across the circular drive way for buses to pull up
Past the parking lot
Was a staircase on the hill
The hill
We called it.
Where all the kids who smoked
Would line up after school
Ritualistically
Take out their cigarettes
And light up
Sometimes a shady shop keeper from downtown
Would drive up to the hill
To discreetly sell cigarettes to
Those who couldn’t smoke
Or to those who could smoke with the intent
Of them spreading them around.
I always thought the hill was where the
Wannabes and the posers gathered
And yet, at the ten year reunion
I could see if nothing else
Some friendships that formed there
Chatting after school
Still held strong.
Now that New York
The nanny state
Raised the smoking age
From 18 to 21
And no high school kid
Can legally smoke
I wonder if people still gather at the hill
after school.
Of my high school
Across the circular drive way for buses to pull up
Past the parking lot
Was a staircase on the hill
The hill
We called it.
Where all the kids who smoked
Would line up after school
Ritualistically
Take out their cigarettes
And light up
Sometimes a shady shop keeper from downtown
Would drive up to the hill
To discreetly sell cigarettes to
Those who couldn’t smoke
Or to those who could smoke with the intent
Of them spreading them around.
I always thought the hill was where the
Wannabes and the posers gathered
And yet, at the ten year reunion
I could see if nothing else
Some friendships that formed there
Chatting after school
Still held strong.
Now that New York
The nanny state
Raised the smoking age
From 18 to 21
And no high school kid
Can legally smoke
I wonder if people still gather at the hill
after school.
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