you were long limbed
hair brown down
and you were the kind of boy
who wrecked cars
there is a type of boy
like you
turn up the stereo
type it across a white paper
drive fast
almost die
the countryside has swervy roads
gravel crunch curves
all of the bad boys lived on my street
with tight pants and lanky bodies
with sparkle rock and roll eyeballs
and I saw all the wreckage