her cheeks almost flooded her temples
as the ends of her lips were stretched
to a crescent by something I said -
an unmeditated exhibit of bliss
roused by quips equipped with comparisons sense couldn’t fix.
her voice gushed formless noise
that filled a void like
full moons over countrysides
or books dropped onto a library’s toes.
and that’s when I knew she’d say yes -
or that she’s ‘busy this weekend but how ‘bout the next?’
and when friends ask how’d I know, I say
it’s because
she laughed.

my hair caught fire,
scalp tingling like a hive disturbed,
neck turning to stone unable to change angle -
listening to the hatedisgustjudgmentdisapproval
I thought I heard in the whispered snickers
speared from the back of the room
piercing into a defenseless morale
usually quick to be defensive and assume
I’ve gained more members of an audience
weighing everything I do.
and that’s when I believed I was ugly or too quiet or weird or unfriendable
and when parents tried to understand why I tried to sever fat that wasn’t there
or censor a humor home to my nature, I say
it’s because
they laughed.