My twin spends our final day of teenhood

in a cloudy Cincinnati apartment

with people she doesn’t like,

doing shots of fireball and vodka,

burning her throat that is like mine.

I spend our final day of teenhood

alone in my bedroom at 10 p.m.

watching Law & Order with a glass 

of water and a splash of existential crisis.

Blank-faced as I watch the badass cop

with a leather jacket and bad boy haircut

turn away a man who can’t give her stability.

I wonder if I should stay awake until midnight

or sleep through my christening of adulthood.

My friends and pet rat sleep walls away

while I strum the Hank Williams tune,
let’s turn back the years and go back to yesterday,

but my audience is in dirty Cincinnati,

slurring her own name.