Remember the day we spent with the ravers?
They led us, single file, under timers, over lasers
to the roof– the naughtiest thing you and I had ever done.
We waited for alarms that would never come.
They pulled a bong from a backpack.
We declined and watched their flame sail and slack
in the wind. I calculated the cost of this caper:
A fine? A permanent mark on my paper.
You wouldn’t look at me, why?
Your eyes skipped the river to the city, adulthood, the sky
as the call of a coxswain floated up to us.
We did not have the vocabulary to discuss
the ways we were choosing to cross that river:
team rower, solo sailor, tourist cruiser.
Word Prompt: caper