Fatal Mistake

An odd beauty crawls up the vine to my window
She whispers something about getting “intoxicated”
And I agree (just a bit frightened of the idea), but nonetheless I agree
Wholeheartedly
To the cause of losing this existence into oblivion
(But she doesn’t know this because I’m trying to be just as cool as she appears)
“Sure,” he says in a calm, collected voice.
She smiles, in pure disbelief,
OBVIOUSLY FIBBING YOU BIG FAT LIAR
But I continue to pretend, trying to keep up with this fast paced fantasy world of hers
We steal the red sports car, of course, (the one father bought when he hit fifty)
-and back out of the driveway slowly
But we take care to go at least thirty miles over the speed limit when passing stop signs
She throws her long blonde hair back into the wind like a movie star and asks me,
“What do you think about being seventeen?”
I shrug offhandedly, like Roger Moore seducing another exotic beauty
(Though, I was really shitting myself silly)
“It’s great, I guess.”
That look of incredulity appears again on that oh-so-lovely! face with big eyes and lips
She sinks back into the black leather seat, turns her face towards me and
CAREFULLY brushes a bit of her bright red lipstick onto the leather
She smirks when she notices my cringe
“Really? I’ve always seen seventeen as a horrible age.”
Sighing deeply, she gently places her small, fairy-like hand
-on mine placed firmly at two ‘o clock on the steering wheel
I shiver and ask her, “Why?”
“Fourteen, everything is new. Fifteen, you’re angry. Sixteen, you think everything will be okay. Seventeen…” she pauses and I stop breathing
YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH YOURSELF
“Your whole life is ahead of you and suddenly it seems so vast and empty, you know?”
Yes, darling, I do know…I do realize more than you think.
“It’s like you’re stuck in some sort of limbo. You can’t be exactly childish and stupid anymore, but you’re not capable of doing anything adult. Actually, forget what I said about limbo! Seventeen is the ninth circle of hell!”
I don’t bother correcting her on her incorrect reference to the Inferno, but instead I sit silently, waiting for her to continue to voice my hidden fears.
“You’re on the verge of everything.”
I dig out the fake IDs from my back pocket and toss them to the sulking Madonna
She looks back at me, slightly perplexed, with her heavy eyelashes and fairy glitter
I smile back at her.
“Here’s to fatal mistakes, passion, youth, excitement and living!” he declares to the world.
Fatal Mistake; there is no ‘s’ there after the ‘e’
The reality is:
You can only make one

Fatal Mistake

HereToday

Joined January 2008

  • Artist
    Notes
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