by Timmy Reed
Everybody in detention said
“You won’t like this disease
Unless you are doing it correctly.”
I ate the teacher’s underpants
(they were on fire)
Because I was skeptical.
“I refuse to believe in the death of Rock ‘n Roll,”
Barked the coolest girl in school
While we perused the nine-dollar bin
at the gas station
She called “Proof”
Of something else.
“I believe in a future where bands
Don’t even play music because
Isn’t listening to music cool enough?”
It was no time to disagree with her.
Prom was coming up
And I had already
Been left out
Of the suicide pact.