My Cardboard Balcony

The Elements by Belinda Roddie blowing smoke out of a pipe creates a constellation of fire that rises up to meet the heavens, which are collapsing down upon us, so they meet somewhere in the middle, where the clouds spit out their rain like a philosopher spitting personal truths in an end of the world tirade

After the party had toned down somewhat, four of us broke away from the rest of the group and went out for alcoholic milkshakes and cheap appetizers at the closest bland diner. As we sipped on Bailey's and mint and chewed on rubbery mozzarella sticks, we got on the topic of high school, and how lousy it really was. I remembered going to prom with the class stoner, who spent the entire evening getting high in the parking lot and then getting dragged away by the cops. "That's nothing," my friend Alec said, "compared to the date that took me to the worst pizza place ever when I was a sophomore."