Waking up

We wake up. We consume mass amounts of Cinnamon Toast Crunch. The box sits next to us, waiting to be poured again. We watch “The Real World” and then change the channel out of embarrassment. We receive a call. The phone sits in our lap. Windows down, we drive to the store, buying ill-fitting dresses, sequined vests and short shorts. We go to the friend’s house whose parents are out of town, putting on lots of eyeliner and drinking lots of Captain Morgan. We stumble to the school dance, shimmying in front of teachers and dancing with younger boys. We leave early and walk to a bonfire, drinking, smoking and peeing behind the garage. We call ex-boyfriends and eat cookies when we get home.