You, my first love with your padding to my room to draw
a mural with me, with my three-years-behind-yours fine motor skills.
Green easel- hodgepodge I never erased.
You, with your independence, hero-power, and readiness,
senior trips and friends I always joined but never made.
“How was it letting the class freak be on top?”
Just a game called chicken I’d never known or played.
“Hairy,” your closest, the tall one says.
Telling eyes meet, groans collect, lips jerk down.
My eyes blank, wait, meet- knowingly turn
for observance, absorption of my own shame-
For my legs’ capacities, recent past atrocities,
my body’s failing I daily erase.
I do not blush. I stay blank. It never happened.
I and me are separated. I am in.
Am not tired at all.