I’m a school boy, in between
unsure of my body’s edges under
my skin, sliding a valentine
between the slots in your locker.
You are the valentine. Or
you are the one who watches
as I cut out hearts from red
construction paper. I’m the one
the teachers ask to stay and talk,
not because I’m bad at school
but because I wear too much
black. You’re the one who sees
full color spectrum in the sparkle
in my eyes, who waits for me
on the merry-go-round after band.
We spend nights in the cemetery,
halfway between our houses, trying
not to let unfinished spirits take
over before we start our own
lives. You kiss me in the dark hall
by the locker rooms. My pink
slip falls from my hand to the floor.