Just Say No

But you held fast because it was the right thing to do. Right? Because the scent of sweet Mary Jane would linger on those pressed Polos And possibly stain. Pressed Polos even back in 9th grade When just a tacky tye-dye shirt would have done. Because plastic red is not your preference, it never was You always preferred holy wine, from gold chalices Because curiosity obviously never killed this cat So you’re here and still scared. Scared to know that maybe even students at prep schools don't use halos and wings to fly but instead soar on hallucinatory, pensive clouds with grey goosebumps up each vertebra at just the thought that to relieve the stress of turning AP chemistry paper pages at midnight scholars of this generation y credulously roll chemistry into paper Just like you baby boomers did and the lucky few, decades before you and probably even those hardtimers But you always said No Right? And so they should Just Say No. “It’s simple, It’s easy, You need to take control of yourself” But see, Mr. Mrs. It’s humiliating No, exasperating To tell failure stories of just saying ….‘yea, sure” To you, who won’t even consider That the most promising students would break promises So easily. Those tin can chains that we used to whisper our impermissible secrets through Were exchanged for shamelessly tainted red solo cups long ago So your admonishing shouts of “Just Say No! Just Say No! Just Say No!” Are too brazen for our malleable eardrums And maybe you will not accept that, The future steps on the same glass shards that your past did But Mr. Mrs. Please direct us, Once you’ve inspected the glass that has broken, That needs to be pieced back Once you’ve found that the cause was not poor design. Just as much as you I want to snap my friends back into reality, Not because I’m superior or lofty in a straight edge throne, But because it’s sad to see them Vomiting up honours classes and scholarships with last night’s meatloaf and their parents unyielding trust Inhaling thick smoke clouds and exhaling the last clarity of sunny days Swallowing down bitter dregs of Canned Heat in hopes to ignite emotions they don’t feel It’s sad for me too. But all you can do is listen To “First Time” stories, To “all the time” stories, To “I quit” stories, To ‘I’ve started again” stories To “It’s really not addictive” stories All you can do is ask questions and Watch faces turn befuddled Like children threw pebbles into puddles, Surfacing insecurities