once a young girl, a shy girl
daddy's little star-drunk symphony
acting like she knows what's up
when all the boys flee
from the playground
to the basketball court
to play a friendly game of handball
although it always ends
with a scraped palm
and a ball bought from 7/11
up on a three story high roof
the boys know
they'll never get it back
and they're a bit bothered
but they won't fret
like the little girl next to them
with sun-blazed shoulders
and sorrow-bent regrets
because she forgot to bring her math notebook today, and she'll decompose right at her desk
before she decides to tell her teacher
she made a mistake
which is funny,
because disappointing others
has always been her strong suit
after the playgrounds,
and lost balls,
and missing math notebooks,
there will be graduations she'll never attend
and classes she'll never finish
books she'll never read
hidden under copious amounts of clothes
she'll sneak past her parents in
ones she'll melt off
with the flames of ambition
riddled from a boy who only wants her
when she's naked
and she'll remember
the movies she used to watch
when she was supposed to be asleep
where loverboys with crooked grins
and holes little girls sought out to fill
write them peace-filled poetry
that'll ease their war smitten mind
and when she finally learns,
she'll still be found begging a man
who'll make everything collapse
to come twiddle at her old elementary school playground,
and he'll make her feel small again
but not in the way she'll ever hope for
