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.