Portrait of a day

Dawn and toast.

Bus and its flickering yellow light.

School and its silent rivers of judgment.

Boys and their fingers in my belt loops

even when we don’t know each other.

No Sarah. No nobody except

a girl in physics who talks to me,

but she talks to everybody.

Weeks 1 and 2 down and I skipped art

both weeks to avoid the hallway

where “it” happened.

Lots of ghosts, but no Devil.

Bus. Meat Palace.

Repeat.