Every Friday night
the neighbors and their friends gathered
to get piss drunk,
pee in the forest,
and drink by the fire.

Every single Friday night
my brother and I hid behind trees,
scaled down earth embankments
thick with ivy, vine, and root,
our faces painted with dirt,
spying on their drinking,
their smoking,
their cursing ways.

Father did not approve
of their extracurriculars,
which made it our business for sure.

He never really explained
why something was forbidden to us.
It was just law.

We figured it out.

Indecency.
Accidents.
Lost shoes.
Bottle breaking
and can littering.

Sometimes fights broke out.

They loved Def Leppard.

We would get caught
and tear through the backyard
laughing hysterical,
singing
pour some sugar on me.

We had no idea
what that meant.

I might blush now,
but I can’t.

It was too pure a time
to worry about shame.