METAL KIDS

 
Beneath the National Army monument

the Metal kids slump on shady stairs

in different tones of tired cotton:

Guns N’ Roses, ACDC, Marilyn Manson,

a painting stuffed into a bursting

Metal Kid backpack,

purple and red

across cardboard.

They are Drinking Shumenko,

peeling gold foil back

from tall green bottles,

throwing it at the roller-bladers

and screeching.

My face is a furnace.

Please don’t do things

just to not disappoint me.

Please don’t disappoint me more.

Your girlfriend has a face

made of such fragile bones

that I am almost more in love

with her than you –

how could I not love

a thing that you do?

How can I explain

the extinguished YOLO feeling,

the trapped, deflated balloon 

to such a stoic face?

What does YOLO look like

in all-caps Cyrillic?

The Metal Kids switch ponytails 

to braid, smash bottles, 

screeching, slump lower 

against eachother's 

knees.