in seventh grade I’d just become aware
boys
friends with more appeal
more attention
more attraction
more boys
she road next to me traffic slow confining
we rode our bikes to and from always nothing new
hit she fell I jumped
wrist trapped
she was following me survivor guilt attention envy
pull forward shouted to the woman shaken terrified
how could she be anything else
lying there none the wiser
unconscious of course I know now
the boy I cried onto the shoulder of kind enough to stand and accept my guile
overplaying the trauma for the sake of attention
from a boy
my life one long angst for this were that it ever came from the place originally needed
none of this would have happened
maybe I’d have become
different