i slide down the blue plastic chair
in my denim shorts that reached my mid thigh

the bare part of my thighs skidded against the now body temperature chair
as I slide down

I rubbed my eyes-

part out of boredom and part out of tiredness

once the stars from where I just rubbed my eyes disappeared
I leaned forward
and I picked up my yellow number two pencil

filling in the dot carefully
sure not to streak outside of it

I knew that if I did I could get the answer wrong or it wouldn’t process
and that couldn’t happen

i borrowed souls in my pockets
tucked them away for the jazz party
on 30th street
and my braids bounced against my scalp
as i ran to the party
and in that moment i remembered
my ancestors cried over these braids
rice grains
engrained in these braids
to find my freedom
and my children’s freedom
and their children’s freedom
but most importantly
my ancestors cried
to help the little white kids
with boats find their rhythm
in a world that was made for them
but funny my ancestors rode a boat too

i don’t know why my dangling braids and the party on 30th got me thinking this

i sank deep into the chair
that now feels like my home

hours of being told what is wrong with me

by hour one i’m
reminded of every single fault

by hour two i wonder what my purpose for being here is-
my existence

by hour three i try to swim to my private sanctuary the one i’ve created in my mind for a brief second to attempt to escape the chaos
only to be dragged back to reality and told that the face i’m making is disrespectful

by hour four i’m at dinner with friends trying to smile and act like life isn’t so bad

by next week the cycle repeats

i saw you
and my lips parted

my stomach immediately-

and i mean immediately
started to shuffle

a million nerves worked there way
up and down
my entire body

i’m excited and nervous and calm

this is what you do to me
and i wonder if i do the same to you
because

wow
i like you

and it’s hard to admit that

admit that
to
myself

but really
i like you

and i have no control over it anymore

i think about you all the time

when i’m working
when i’m sleeping
when i’m combing my hair

constantly

i emptied the pennies on the table

they clanked abruptly against the auburn stained wood table


they did eventually settle

“Ok, I think we can get out of this place.”

We will without doubt struggle but not more than we already are

I nodded in absolute agreement with my sister

“We’re getting out of here.” I whispered

I froze

I didn’t know what to do

my inner monologue said,
‘if you go, you die. if you don’t go, you die.’

what the least painful
route to go

i’m so tired