Stuck in a Teenage Rut

The last time we met was in a queue at the twenty-four-hour petrol station on St Stephen’s Day.

I was gasping for a cigarette, and you were high and had the munchies.

You hadn’t changed a bit — but not in a good way.

In between the giggles and the scatology you were still raking over old ground:

The dalliance you had with that older woman when you were seventeen and how all our teachers were pricks.

You had not grown up since then.

In fact I would say you were diminished;

Horizons set low, outlook shuttered by drugs and disappointment.

I felt sad for you who was a rebel in school and never tired of telling us that you were getting out of town as soon as the exams were over.

You never got out and the last I heard was that you were on the line of a factory that made ventilation units.

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About ucronin

Microbiologist, brewer, writer, fan of James Joyce, guitar player and gardener, U. Cronin was born in the county town of Ennis, Co. Clare. He's spent much of his adult years moving country — between Spain and Ireland — and at present he is to be found back in his native town. Author of five novels and working on a sixth, U. is back in the lab and engaging his passion for looking for bugs using very bright lasers. Let's hope it turns out well!
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