Here I stand
in a random gallery
barely noticed
by the odd-shaped faces
the loud conversations
surrounding me.
My temples pulse
like little drums
my eyes paint
scenes
each a masterpiece
of Chapel.
I wish you were here, I text
to no response,
just as Cammie Wood,
who’s been sweating me
since sixth grade,
comes up
in a shoestring bikini
and smacks me
on the butt.