Because Tommy's mother
         slipped a Percodan at lunch
and Brent's father
         mixed bourbon with his coffee.
Because Drake's dad
         set his ring to leave a mark.
Because Jen's sister humped
         the maintenance man
and Margot's parents prayed at church
         for the virgin birth
and Ellen's stepfather worked third shift
         while her mother cried alone.

Because our clothes
         were hand-me-downs
and bologna was a treat
         and the two eldest sons
of the Kings in 4D
         worked as firemen at Allied Chemical.
Because we were failing
         high school French
and cigarettes were talismans
         of things to come as we lay in the woods,
cherries piping smoke into the air like stacks.
         Because none of us were virgins.

Because we read Club at ten
         and sometimes Dori gave us handjobs
behind the dumpster. Because we knew
         the local deputy by name
and the grave way he shook his head
         when he put one of us in cuffs.
Because we carried knives
         and sometimes fought each other
to prove we didn't care
         and sometimes stood watch
because we did.

Because we stole what we needed—
         candy and records, comic books and liquor,
pot from a parent's drawer.
         Because our bikes carried us away
from the complex gates into the fields
         beyond the factory to a hillside garbage dump
where we drank and watched the sun disappear.