In Fredericton, we climbed buildings

we ate Chinese in the

valleys of elementary school

roofs,              me

                         spitting out the oil

we drank vodka

straight from the bottle

under the bridge,  among supports and spiders,

me

scared to fall out of the sky

sometimes we drank cheap wine

in the graveyard before we were legal,

me

scared of ghostly security guards

we stayed in the darkroom

until the morning parking attendant

came on duty  then

drank coffee

at the only 24-hour restaurant

me

always over-caffeinated

and our rollerblades

stroked the lonely pavement

at a clean 3 a.m.                me

tripping on air

we rolled joints bigger

than two thick fingers

smoked them on our backs by the lake

and when you introduced me to jack kerouac,

all i wanted to do

was hit the road, hard

me

so easily swayed

we braved snowstorms

for photography outings to

abandoned buildings

and punk shows, out-of-towners

me

pretending to like punk

we named plants

and crashed cars

me

always a terrible driver

we attended the yearly rave at the market

and returned the next morning, Saturday,

for freshly-squeezed orange juice, coffee,

and samosas

me

always ready to dance

we watched the sun rise

from the lighthouse, smoke from the night before

still inhabiting our clothes

like an unsolicited lover

me

always the last one

to want to go home.