Montaigne was right, without the body’s meddling love
is more thrilling.
Yet from the start in elementary what she did
with it was far
from irrelevant, her jeans, mascara, rings all
And she was always so pretty. Claire Birchall of
the yellow hair,
the twins at my birthday party came out and told me
I was unfair
for playing with no one but her. I said I was sorry.
I didn’t care.
Bev across the street who shielded me from Bridget,
nightmare next door,
not nothing. Then Bev in high school who spared me
the group disease,
four or five girls forever demanding IDs for safe conduct.
I broke up with