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Monkey Bars
The handles of the monkey bars
Ripped calluses on my palms
But then again
I swung the paint right off them
Talk of the second grade
Rusty handlebars

Nine years old started my “Zinny” phase
Worrying about who sat
On my invisible friend, Bob
We snarled as we scolded
The others for squashing them
Whispers at the lunch table
Spread the murderers name

Started chasing boys around age ten
Capturing them in games
Constant battle of the sexes
My very first boyfriend
Held my stumbling hand
As we pattered through the park
Jealous girls stare

I tried making new friends
Sixth grade girls are not so nice
So-and-so didn’t get along
They passed me a note
Pink gel pen
They had gotten in the goody bag
From the birthday party that weekend
Hearts splattered on the front page
Edges tightly folded
Trying to bribe me to their side

I sit at my kitchen table
Stained brown from my first birthday cake
Now blue and orange flyers lay out
Honors bio, Acc. Adv. Honors algebra,
Enlarged books that come along with it
500 pages, fine print
Picking classes for my first year
I scramble through my options
Missing rusty handlebars





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