on: bubble tea.

“Oh, yes, that’s so Weetzie Bat,”We’d howl to each other, and dive up from the subway station onto bright Bostonian cobblestones, holding hands with stolen makeup and comic books riding high on our shoulders.We could still feel with a blush of pride the startled gaze of the lip-pierced boy on the T as he slid away through plexiglass, wondered aloud if he’d read our love note yet as we rolled our hips carefully home- to Rachel's house, not mine. On the way there it was always a stop for floral-scented bubble tea at Emack’s; afterwards, a cigarette to cement the sticky flavor to the roofs of our mouths. We whooped and spit tapioca pearls at each others’ cheeks to forget the New English chill, and when we passed a particular fluorescent Japanese restaurant she’d always say, “Sushi’s a heavy protein buzz, mang.” Just like Duck..