Twenty-Something Cans of Monster Energy

Twenty-Something Cans of Monster Energy

The essence of adolescence
is the twenty-something
cans of Monster Energy,
wedged beneath the hedge

behind the rec, wrecked,
grass up to its neck in
Mars Bar wrappers
they have left for dead.

They’re tip-toeing. Treading,
on ice so thin that parents
are being called in to
explain broken cider bottles

and why their kid’s life
is a mess. And why
their life is on a Cliffside,
dancing on the edge.

The essence of adolescence
is the tattoo of black marker pen:

kids waiting for it to get dark and then,
scrawling each other’s names on
lonely-looking street signs just to feel like
a permanent part of the world again.

Dear Chloe Who-Graffitied-Her-Name
On-Douglas-Avenue-Street-Sign,

I hope the taste of the ink has left you satisfied.
Dignified. Justified. Kept your mind occupied,
or just happier than you originally realised.
I’ll think of you tonight, if I dare to close my eyes.