it began with an impromptu dance
a facade of rehearsal to hide the fact that we
were not to be alone together in the auditorium
and when we realized the place was going to fill up,
we took the small maintenance door
to the old tunnels where the chairs are kept
and the piles of odd lumber and equipment in for the winter
---exit out back
this old playground they condemned
for its chains and splintering planks
bolted together to last decades of weather
and millions of little feet and hands
but it was the older ones, in the end
who destroyed it
now it is a paved lot where boys on motorcycles
flash their teeth and start fights which spill out
down the hill like rainbows in motor oil on fire
and the red and blue (the white is implied)
come to clean up the mess
but this is nothing new
we are living the same drawn-out moment
because we are living on the side of the mountain and cannot see over it
---i don't think we can survive very long on top