Transient

sitting on the floor
makes my
ass hurt
elementary gymnasium
smelled like rubber
and sweaty floor
mats
morning assembly march
mister Bannerman’s moustache
thistle grey sage nostril hairs
grown so long
they rest, parted
on his upper lip

i used to think

i used to dream

Melanie? i think her name was
“how ’bout a roll in the hay?”
held my hand, brown hair
overalls
Melanie. before cheap perfume, and
easy girls

before condoms
and shower sex
dating, and failing at adult
life
before all of it
she propositioned me
and
my
unconquerable ego actually regrets
what i
respectfully refused, ignorant
of her intended meaning

an idiot, now enlightened

reliving past events
with each wave
of
newly acquired
knowledge

ass needs no sympathy.

© Emerys Watchel, 2016 All rights reserved.

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