By Tiffany Shull Peterson
cash only shared water bottles and teenage ego
he leans in she’s pulled away
peeling posters drooping dangling swaying
a noir fantasy filled with smoke and punk
bass
beats
coy smiles beneath too-black rimmed eyes
love drunk side stage yearning for a glance
sweat and noise and insecurity
average talent sings off-key as fists punch
the
air
boys will be boys and girls will go home
he looks at her she looks at you they look away
tears stain the highway on the late night ride
a spot called cancun at a midwest crossroads
Heartland Society of Women Writers 
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