The first time,
I ran to my room,
crawled under my bed;
wouldn’t come out.

This is Ivan’s room,
in purple crayon.

And I soon discovered
the direction East
and sat, and thought,
and pined.

And sure, it was
your fault, and
I hate you for it.
Thus: elementary school sucks.

I make decent grades
and no friends
and memories are of field trips,
and wanting to go Home.

High school comes and the
wrapping unfurls a little.

I mean, I have to find someone
to eat lunch with.

And the second time, this is the
time several romances have
gone by (may I have some
daisies? I was innocent,
I swear)

Things are looking

I have reasons to go to school,
I have friends,
I have an escape to college approaching.

This time around, I don’t have as much hatred.
I’ve now been here longer than there,
and though I missed a lot,
I also became a person here.

So I was changed, on that day,
but it wasn’t nearly as mournful
as I’d expected.

I was headed places—
out to be sure, but
for the first time,
up, as well.

Here’s to a triple,
and I live again.