A cute, popular boy sits
behind me in history.
A football player who
makes history Suck Less.
Our flirting is
harmless.
He is so far
from my league,
we play different sports
plus
I have all the wrong equipment.
Besides,
Jonathan is the love of my life.
Until that cute popular boy runs the toe
of his rubber-soled Nikes
slowly down the inner-arch of my Stan Smiths
and sends such aching through me . . .
I grab my Trapper Keeper,
to start crossing out
doodled rows of Jonathans
before he can see
how all the o’s are little hearts.