and cartwheels
 
 without killing herself?)
 
 Those days, Chase came by
 
 to take me home and stop
 
 by the park for a good long
 
 make-out session.
 
 I invited him to share my stash.
 
 He took a snort or two,
 
 but declined
 
 the tinfoil routine.
 
 I let him get away
 
 with it the first time.
 
 On his second refusal,
 
 I asked why not.
 
 He shrugged.
 
 I’ve set boundaries.
 
 I Meant
 
 to analyze
 
 Chase’s limits
 
 that very weekend,
 
 to learn
 
 just how far
 
 I could stretch
 
 him at the edges,
 
 to judge
 
 how wide
 
 I might warp
 
 his self-imposed
 
 morality.
 
 Don’t ask me