'Thank God none of us is responsible for nobody else,' says Gary.

Gary is one of my closest high school buddies. The other four are Benny, Steve, Martin, and Lou. All six of us are gathered around a pile of burning leaves and we’re drinking from cheap six packs, watching the smoke rise.

'Thank God none of us ever tried to leave this town,' says Steve.

In high school I figured I would end up elsewhere. I used to talk about college with Martin, neither one of us knowing what it took to get into one, either financially or grades-wise. And neither of us ever bothered to check into it. Benny was a really good singer in high school and we all used to say he'd be a superstar one day. But whenever he was questioned about whether he wanted to run off to New York City he'd just say, 'My mom is sick.' She's gone now, but Benny's still around.

'Thank God we never shot up the school like we planned to sophomore year,' says Lou.

We had the idea long before it came into style, which is kind of why we never went through with it. Our classmates certainly deserved it, I’m certain of that, but we just couldn't imagine how it could possibly play out. We didn't have the video games or the news footage. Or the Internet for that matter. We just had our ingenuity, which wasn't enough to get a gun in our hands.

"Ahead of our time," says Lou.

'Thank god autumn leaves still catch fire,” I say. The other five lift their cans and howl at the moon, which is really big tonight.