—CRY IN THE NIGHT, IF IT HELPS

 

Almost School

 

I tuck all the grim clouds into my socks way down by the holey heel pad where the gloom will either smother or bloom again It’s Monday after all my backpack overloaded with nothingness the bus hiccupping disgust lurching a plume of charcoal exhaust sucked up my nostrils like a coward genie gone missing as I clamber aboard with eyes stuck to the steps as if they’re free pennies just waiting to be plucked I take a safe seat in the long back but then bad Houdini is there Mickey Purcell Irish kid whose dad burns cigarettes on his own son’s thighs and so the trees twirl and swirl and the world does too for a short while until Mickey grabs a shank of my hair forces my head to his crotch and winds it like a well wheel crank as if I’m bobbing for apples gasping for air Mickey saying Suck me Fag saying You know you want it And upon release I swallow every fiber of cloistered air before saying back Mickey I’m not gay but you are and that’s okay it is Let’s talk about it and I’ll just listen