“I don't believe it,” he assured us.
He writes “The Boss” and “The Best,”
and his name.
Face blank, he writes his name,
locking long white fingers to the markers.
It's scrawled in deep purple, and in other colors, the ink gliding
over his brother's signature
and into the entire desk's net of graffiti, pencilled in and scratched
out. The t's half-crossed, his eyes dart up again
to see if anyone else is watching.
He writes “The Boss” and “The Best,”
and his name.
Face blank, he writes his name,
locking long white fingers to the markers.
It's scrawled in deep purple, and in other colors, the ink gliding
over his brother's signature
and into the entire desk's net of graffiti, pencilled in and scratched
out. The t's half-crossed, his eyes dart up again
to see if anyone else is watching.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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