You, In the Community Garden This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

April 14, 2016
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The train stumbles along a bridge overlooking
dingy tawny apartment complexes, and from
my perch I can see
a boy, tan and crouched over a box of tangled grass and flowers,
cerulean shirt stained with sweat, back facing
the windows. If I take a
step, I could crush those weeds he is painstakingly uprooting. I wonder
why he is outside without a hat, hair matted to
his head. I wonder
if I scribble some words, pencil moving over
the surface as emotions cascade,
tear up this sheet of paper into a ball
and, like an arrow, aim it toward him –
would he pivot and
catch it with one hand, shoot the blue sky a
contemptuous look, bones immune to the impact
sticks and stones?
Never mind,
he is simply too far away. No matter how hard
I try, I cannot
open the window, and besides, the train is
moving again –
the boy in the T-shirt a streak of cerulean,
the garden a blur of green.
It takes a long time for me to arrive at my train station, but not very long
to depart.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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