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| Landscape | The Biggies |

by Carol Treadwell

I'd always considered myself better-looking than her, but enough beer and pot tends to knock those petty concerns right aside.

I can't remember if we were coming from a party or what... But what to do when there's two girls and one guy?

Make use of him, I say, and that we more or less did. Drive us around, you boy, in your rickety huge 4X4. (This was a long time ago.)

But what to do
when there's two girls
and one guy?

Drive us up to Lawrence Hall of Science and lie with us on the grass. Teach me the cold-hotness of kissing and the feel of hands. Throw me aside as I push you off, and do the same, please, for my friend.

Take us back down the hill, pull the pipe out of the glove box. Let us smoke as we slide across the upholstery and into the car walls.

Climb over the fence with us at Willard Junior High, not even the one we went to. Help us pull back the tarp and off our clothes. Into piles on the cement, away from the wet spots. Watch me on the high dive, naked at the end. Feel me crash into the water and bob up again. Be blind with me as I fish around under the tarp, fascinated with not being able to breathe. Don't go back with me the next day though, with my sister, to find my magenta shoe.

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