I like games like 7-up,
because they don’t know it’s you.
Like a child I feel.
Small, and pink,
blushing.
Clean with soap and dirty by lunch;
stripped tee-shirts.

I'm walking on mulch again;
the boys play with cards and call the girls ugly.
“Hey,” I say in the
Softest voice, so sweet so sweet.

Knock, knock…
He’s there at the door
with a smile.
I want to trade my lunch with you,
play kickball with you,
sit in the fiction section and think about puppies and dragons.

“Hey,” you say in the
Softest voice, so sweet so sweet.
Multiplication tests are hard,
but I can solve your Rubik’s Cube.