I was stoned the summer after high school. We went to Taco Bell every day. I’d been in the system since junior high.
Later, the girls stand in front of the open refrigerator, slightly feral: slices of cheese torn from plastic, pickles from the jar, a swig of Hershey’s syrup, jelly scooped out with a finger.
I want to catcall dogs.
I’ve never understood men in passing cars catcalling women on the street. What a terrible way to get a date.
My catcalls to dogs will surely be different.