“fuckin this” and “fuckin that”
they show the world
they are nearly men
by fucking everything…

“mom…” says one,
sheepishly on his cell
“can josh sleep over?”

they’re playing with a lighter now
melting things
straws
cups
laughing in their almost grown voices

boys and fire
boys and their bobbing knees

they are silly
in their newly birthed
not yet broken in
manliness
new adams apples
legs skinny hairy
angular sharp
corners
goofy laughs
eating ice
loudly
crunch crunch
melting things,
burning things

they are annoying
they are loud.
they are children
playing with fire.

i want to tell them
“grow the fuck up”
stupids.
i scowl at them
i want
to tell on them.

do they think i’m pretty?