my feet quickly began to meld into the
rubber grips on the stairs descending (into hell, I promise)
and wasn't I supposed to ask him something?
or wait, maybe I was supposed to ask yesterday.
what if I see someone I know?
ohnonono don't look at him
don't-
yeah, yeah, I'm perfectly fine but if you don't mind,
I need to get this test done (so I can go home, but I don't say that)
there's a sword fight going on in my spine,
and a boxing match in my head.
somehow my tears manage to stay
on the bridge of my lips,
staying off of the paper
that will judge me.
and then I wipe them with
ever graying hands, hands that shake
as I pass him the booklet,
and hands that turn the doorknob
releasing me and flushing out
all the panic.

r.c.