the first of everything

it's our first car,

a junk heap,

with blue smoke

pouring out of the exhaust,

but it runs, our first

apartment

on the ground floor,

with the trash

room next door,

and the bongo

drums heard

through the thin walls.

it's our first job,

punching the clock,

the boss you hate,

the work

numbing you,

day after day.

our first wardrobe

filling the closet

of things we'll never

wear again

in a year or so.

a leather vest? really?

and then there's the

first marriage.

what we're we thinking?

i don't know.