To Watch the Lights and Shoot the Breeze Sometimes we used to park Up in the hills, above the orange groves, On curvy dirt roads Used mostly by fruit pickers, Above the last house and Beyond the outskirts of town, While our parents and Prudish classmates lay in bed or Watched the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson. We sat inside, outside and even on The hood of my two-door-Dodge-Dart and Smoked our weed in pipes or papers and Drank beer we pimped from the 7-11, Sometimes even -yaow!- tequila, Talking about beautiful girls and Awkwardly trying, never succeeding, To admit that we were shy, and Feared these girls who we Loved or liked or hated now, Who had the power to reduce What we misnamed our manliness To nothing more than childish adolescence. We imagined that the city lights Were those of another city, Hollywood maybe, Someplace more exciting, and we talked about the people who Lived there and wondered what They were doing at that moment, -Sleeping? Partying? Having sex?- As if All the beautiful movie stars in Hollywood Were sleeping with each other, or drinking Fancy drinks mixed and served by maids or Butlers, and probably even snorting Cocaine, while pimps and hookers and winos Walk along what might be say- Hollywood Boulevard?, Instead of Main Street, Which from where we sat was a long line Of double-dots that dimly shone through a Frosty haze of night time mist which lingered In the cool still air above the valley. We traded stories about where we’d be In five-ten-fifteen years, provided We could get through high school without Getting kicked out for misbehaving, or Flunking out and becoming bums or Fast-food lifers, serving burgers and tacos To our successful friends who stayed home, Studying and sleeping, instead of parking On cool moonlit school nights To watch the lights and shoot the breeze.
David Miller's Questions:
Does this poem seem to prosaic? If so, is it "bad form" to use or in a good poem?
I would really appreciate your help.