a lawless band of latch-key kids,
kool-aid stains on fingers, hair and lips,
trying to outcool each other and outkid ourselves.
the garbled mess of a failed experiment
to copy the copy of copies that copied
all those stolen cassette.
and the bottom line.
profit margins.
sounds.
i drove past them the other day, and they're still there
-- strangely us though we're not them --
chain-smoking because you can't take it with you,
i will start using my toes to count
the next time one of them dies.
it was the first time i had been to steak-n-shake,
because i was never allowed to stay up late,
or pretend i was Marty McFly.
having to be the good girl for pay is by far worse
than being the worst kind of villain for free.
i still don't get the malt shops,
though i will visit,
and jokingly request beer.
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