bad stuff, good company

I went to a party.
There was a charcoal grill, everything smelt lovely.
Beer and cigarettes and laughter.
About 5 emo-punk kids showed up in leather jackets. Black hair, skinny jeans, dreads, studded bracelets.
They made themselves be known and perched upon the porch.
The wind blew and the smoke charged in their direction.
All of them retreated from the cloud.
I remained in my place and couldn’t help but think, “that’s not very punk rock of you”.