Down the hall,
Voila bumping, backpack
Slung
Against my bruised
Shoulder,
Pain, sharp and
Intense
Not as deep as the
Blue
Fog.

Her locker,
At
The far wing.

Safe haven
Danger
Zone.
A world I have stepped
Into
Only very
Recently.

Dodge the
Groups
Of boys and
Semi-men,
Semi-women,
Girls.

Of course the
One
Face
Stands out from the
Rest
But I’m used to it
Now;
Like a throbbing
Pain
Eventually you can
Assess
The damage so well it
Doesn’t require much
Thought.

Her locker,
Perfume bottles stacked
Tossed,
Haphazardly
Along the
Top.
Crammed with
Books
Coats
Light spring jackets and
Other useless materials.

Semi-man
Trying to zip
Something closed with his
Teeth,
Her:
You could just ask for
Help.
Shrugs.

I say, stupid
As I am,
Nice technique.

He
Looks me in the face.

I intercept his
Gaze—
Mistake.

Blue eyes,
Dark hair,
Angled face.

Bluer eyes
Darker hair
More angular
Face.

He
Says.

They
Say.

I’ve been
Burned
But
I don’t
Respond.

Cannot.

Run from the building

He doesn’t exist.
He doesn’t exist.

I need a transfer.

Safe haven comes in the
Form
Of a threadbare
Leather
Bus seat,
Red curly hair;
Distraction.