oh those times in the country, those moments we’d never experienced, the drama, the anxiousness, the lies, the unsober times, the nights we’d hope would never end – until the prom queen passes out in the backseat of her best friend’s mom’s car just as the sun was going up.
we thought we’d never go back in that laundry room again, or the bathroom. but we loved it. we couldn’t get enough. where we raced to after every football game. where boundaries were crossed and laughs were shared, and people three grades lower even heard about that night the guys from Corpus Christi showed up.
and every weekend we’d go. we knew that dangerous curve, we knew about the haunted house next door. we even walked to the graveyard during that halloween party.
a bottle of urine, two bottles of boones. trying the new liquors, and getting used to beer. the lady in red. the problems that were really tough because we’d never have to deal with them before. where friendships were forged. where love lives were torn. where fireworks went off on different levels. the only other place we could turn to be free besides sonic and dances and the restrictions of our own cars.
it was hot, and we went swimming. it was cold, so we bundled up – or drank until we couldn’t feel it. where young texans learned to drink. where young thinkers learned to smoke. where sexton had early jam sessions.
we got to lose our sense of reality, and the future, and just concentrate on the then and there. we weren’t sitting around discussing SAT topics, we were l-i-v-i-n. out there, we didn’t have to be the lead french horn, we didn’t have to be the cross ex debater. we could just be.
