i was 17
with some friends, none of whom were very close
mostly through common chemical interests did we know one another, and even then we only knew each other in the behavioral sense; internal states weren’t a concern unless they were shared; as gibson would say, we cared only when our inputs were similarly tweaked
we drove out to a quarry
the quarry
rooftop
so named from the stone off of which the guy in breaking away jumps
we park the cars near some trees, away from the road and far
enough from the gravel path that passers by wouldn’t call the cops
we get out and walk about a quarter of a mile
in swimsuits
with towels around our necks like scarves, strutting for no one in the afternoon’s glow
we smoke a bit of grass on the path
though that hardly matters, it was just as common as the
cigarettes we’d light up afterward