I have a test that
I’m not ready for.
So I just begin to study.
I stare at the girl in uniform
but we don’t have these
here. Sarah has skull
socks, black and blue and
the tissue box is almost empty.
Her chest is open to cool
air, my nail is broken and it
reminds me of the day we both
found out we were double-
jointed in the hands
and that we got our
braces off around the
same time. These Goth girls
wear black. Darker than
the red dickies you
always wear.
Dom’s dog tags jingle
every time he walks past.
Reminds me of how
you carry your keys
when we hold hands.
The test is over
and I have a
brown dot on my white shoe.
I roll my eyes, and remember
your eyes when
you wear your hazel contacts.
My nose is running and
I finally smell his breath.
Coffee
and the homeroom bell rings.
I accidentally
wrote your name
on my test
and
I’m too embarrassed
to say it’s mine
while everyone looks
around for you.