We’re walking shoulder-to-shoulder, Heidi and I,
Her olive complexion and straight chestnut hair,
Erect posture emphasizing budding womanhood,
She’s one of the cool kids, this one,
A crush with no point in contemplating, not really,
Singled me out for this task, out of the classroom,
Into the halls, without witness, where she can
Sate her curiosity; realizing this bursts my
Bubble of introverted isolation, she’s cute
And she likes me, fresh intuition sparks
Like a candle, I feel warmth, strength
A fleeting sense of belonging
What does she see in my posture?
And then HE steps out, round the corner
Eddie Bauer Jr. on class patrol,
Takes us in with a sharpened stick
And pokes this bubble—our bubble,
If only for this moment—demands of her,
“What are you doing with him?”
She reddens, remembers her place,
Whatever this place is, I do not have a key,
Never will, I am reminded, and I believe him
Poor white boy, never one of the cool kids.