Rough blacktop,
crowded, yells, loud
4 basketball courts, but 11 balls
some in the hoops, mostly out however
hitting big red balls
against the white walls
a mini-bang with each bounce
some too high, some too low
each miss – wall or hoop
would hit the 11-year-old girls
gossiping, standing
between the hoops and the walls
walking through the danger zone
an obstacle course,
Tips From a Survivor:
keep your hands
above your head
close your eyes
and run through
grass fields
playing soccer,
imaginary goals
fourth grade girls
painting tree trunks
with wet mud
if I focus,
I think I can remember
the games we would play
truth or dare
was always a favorite
grass in someone’s hoodie
waving outside the bathrooms
we would dare victims
then we would follow and giggle
how could 30 girls
in a herd
go unnoticed?
we were 9
we did not know
we had no grudges
cooties had abandoned us
when we blew out those 9
birthday candles
“gosh” instead of “god”
“heck” instead of “hell”
“darn” instead of “damn”
you know the drill
shunning was alien
shoving was unheard of
cyber-bullying?
we only used
the internet to draw.
our hands covered in
markers, ink, and
“This is Buggy”
not flirty nail polish
I still remember
the smell of the tanbark
the cold metal of the monkey bars
the feeling of home in a school
I miss
elementary school.
