Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes

Everything I’ve known is ending

like a really good book I don’t want to finish

because I will miss being in that world.

Everything is changing . . .

Mom’s earned her straight A master’s,

now a high school special education teacher,

putting me in charge after school.

Everything is changing . . .

including at church,

a new pastor who rants

about the 7-Eleven

with its video games and magazines.

No word of hope for those who,

as Mom says, “managed to drag

our sin-bloated bodies” to a pew.

No lightness. No victory.

No point waking up early

every Sunday.

Everything is changing . . .

including my body too much, too fast.

Circus tall with Popeye calves

and saddlebags, a “friend” points out.

Everything is changing . . .

A boy hisses, “eat me,”

in the back of the art room,

gesturing to his acid wash crotch.

He repeats his suggestion

until my cheeks go hot, and I

back away to my seat.

He and I used to laugh together,

sniffing scented magic markers

instead of coloring our

maps of the world,

suggesting, “Smell this,”

only to hit each other’s hands,

forcing marker tip to nose

teacher scolding our squeals of delight,

and matching rainbow freckles,

but there’s no teacher here,

and I’m afraid of him now,

and everything is changing.