I'm walking down the cafeteria hallway
holding a laptop that took twenty minutes to fix.
I spot her packing up her possessions from the table,
everything too spread out for her not to have eaten alone,
but she's smiling as usual
and it spreads to my lips.

I hear my name and I stop
not because someone was talking to me
but because they were talking about me
something that never happens
or never used to
until they started to see who I really was
and fall in love with that-
Clapping me on the shoulders,
sending me emails,
adding me on Facebook
congratulating me publicly
giving me hugs
stopping me in the hall
turning history into a discussion about me
being a superhero for those in need of help.
all because I have developed the guts to say something
or rather, write something
nobody else admits to being able to say.

My name comes from that table on the left
up against the lockers
first seat on the far end after the bar
my old seat, for two years.
It's those memories that have allowed me to say what I've said-
those memories of losing everything
of rebuilding, from scratch
of having my lips bleed because they are so unused they crack
of finding the darkest emotions
and recovering.

I walk five more feet and turn right.
She looks up as I approach.
I hand her her laptop and charger, smiling
as she is.
always is, always has been.
"It's done, it works"
I say, enthusiastically.
Her eyes widen in surprise
"really?"
I nod
"it only took a few minutes, it should be better"

she scoops up her stuff
and we walk away from that place together
as we always used to, freshman year
when our round table sat in that exact spot.

But three years have changed a lot:
she's smiling in my presence
and we split, heading opposite directions.
her to her locker
me to the library.

I hear the faint words
"merci beaucoup"
as I pass the 3rd post

And for a second, I want to turn back.
To walk with her like I used to her
but actually talk to her.

I continue walking.

"Four years change a person"
I think as I climb every stair
as I have, for four years.
I stop for a second,
three quarters of the way up
and watch the way the sunlight drifts in from the door window.
A beauty I never would have seen then.
I would have been too entranced in her
and now I walk alone.
I would have been far too depressed by my own problems
to say what I have.
I may be a stronger person
a better person
than sitting there at that round table
but I always someone then.
Now I stand in stairwells alone

I stop halfway up 12th street
and stand there, letting cars pass me
not moving an inch.
I want to stay there
standing in the freezing rain
staring at the last curve of the road
until I fall over
frozen and soaked to the bone
waiting for someone to stop,
to get out, wrap me in a hug
and pull me to their car.
but I know  nobody will
that I'll die here
forgotten on a busy road
so I continue on
back to my empty, useless, repetitive life.

It's only 11:30 when I plug it in and go bed,
Screaming at myself, tears in my eyes
It had only been five days
and I didn't love her Monday,
I grew into it
and I thought she had too,
until those three words came from her tongue-


"I have someone"

my world shouldn't have shattered
I shouldn't have stayed up all night
screaming at myself and writhing in pain,
clutching my aching stomach.
I should have rolled over and gone to sleep
unsurprised.

I should be used to it
Used to spending nights like this
Used to being dissapointed
To having to turn the thermostat up to 75°
so I'm not cold at night.
To having to get on facebook and talk
so I don't fall asleep completely lonely.
To having to write so I can say
"I love you"
at the end of a poem
just to get those words out of my system.

He throws the booster seat on the carseat
and I squeeze in among all the crap.
I close the door and he floors it.
squealing through the grocery store parking lot
blaring tech n9ne.
he almost speeds into the blackberry bushes
but jerks the wheel to the right at the last second
and makes it feel like we're gonna flip end over end at every speed bump.
he take another quick turn, a left, at the end of the lot.
we turn left again at the four way, without stopping.
he speeds up more when goin up 7th
and the car starts smoking around the trailer park.
we reach my house and he burns out in the short stub of driveway.
I get out smiling,thank him, and fall into the ditch.
The can of monster falls out of my inner pocket, so I put it back,
dig myself out, close the door, which I hadn't successfully done
and walk toward the door.
they back out, almost hitting the apartment fence
and speed off toward his house.

this is a rare moment in my life,
my dad being who he is,
stupid thrills like this are few and far between
so I treasure each and every one of em

mio amore è forte
Mia's amore è ... sconosciuto
as I weave my way through the crowd
sometimes moving to the side,
sometimes bending at the waste to avoid arms-
as if playing playing limbo,
sometimes jumping over low limbs
(much to the disagreement pf my ankle and knee).
trying to catch my brother
who, being much smaller than me,
fits easily through the crowd
and disappears under the cookie table to her right.
She's standing with the black haired girl from the pew in front of us,
both smiling and laughing at my approach.
and when I finally find him and take him by the hand
I stop and talk to them
to her.
My Sunday was hollow in the absence of her presence.
I see her an hour each week
down around those little tables
where I often sit next to her
as I have since day one-
but this being the second Sunday of march, that didn't happen.
so I feed off the smile and the short fleeting words
and every time I pass her,
by that table
the coat closet
the nursery
the kitchen
the espresso machine-
we fit a word or two in.
At one point I join the line to take dishes to the kitchen,
hidden in the crowd
I hear her sister and her talking, about me
about me smiling at her, talking to her-
or I assume it's me, they give no name.
I smile and the person in front of me moves
but I was already turned and she doesn't notice me eavesdropping,
so I wave and continue on.
in the 20 minutes after that
she stays at the youth trip donation table
and we don't talk, since I have no money.
So I wander around instead
talking to some of her siblings or the occasional pastor.
I wonder if she sees the look in my eyes
if she can sense that when my life changes
I plan to continue coming here for one reason-
her.
I want to somehow stand up and ask her on a date.
but it is futile, what am I?
I'm poor no matter how you slice it
whether i'm in a family of four or a family of six,
and I'm nothing worth looking at either.
she is rich despite having 25 siblings,
rich enough to live in a huge house on the Hill,
to deliver snow from the mountains
and feed over 20 people.
and she is beautiful, indescribably so-
gentle and quiet, until she speaks
but her words don't define her near as much as her actions
which again assure me that she is gentle and shy
that the loudness is a facade
and a well practiced one.
she blushes when I'm near
and her words are always forced out through a smile
but I don't know whether that's just how she gets with guys
I've never seen her elsewhere.
I would tell myself to ask her out,
but she deserves better than me.

I will break down that wall in three months, if I don't before
with her
or another

The sun is out today,
the clouds are absent.
The flags flap lazily on the pole
halfway between the window
and the next brick building.

I'm listening to Korean rap
and filing through South African parliamentary reports.
others type on their keyboards,
screens facing away from me.
some look bored
and play with hair or scratch their chins.
Some talk to others loud enough to be heard through studio headphones.
Some wrinkle their foreheads or open their eyes wide, shocked at something
(each at separate times).
and four seats down, he sleeps.
headphones in his ears
Ipod on the table.
sometimes he rests his head on the table,
but he always end up leaning back
until his chair tips too far or a neighbor taps his shoulder.
He then wakes up and puts his head back on his desk.
At 2:04, his closest neighbor starts throwing spit *****,
he doesn't wake up.
I put my head down for a second
and quit looking at him.
I look back up and he's awake,
dancing to music, talking, and doing group work.

Somewhere in your lecture, you say
"you have addiction problems"

you don't know how right you are
but you don't know how strong I am.

I have fought pills, cough syrup
energy drinks and cutting
and you'll never know.

but I've won.

I may have addiction problems
but I ain't gonna let morning tea turn into one.
I trust myself more than you ever have
and that's what's helping me learn to love myself
and beat those addictions.

so drag me down all you want,
but all it's doing is helping me stand tall
(and showing me what I can defeat,
by getting me started in the first place)