A dilapidated
high school bathroom
all white tile
and despair
rubbed into the grout
yellower than my
stained teeth

There's boys *******
in the stall next to me
I try to quietly
read the news (of your assassination)
but walls are being torn down
whether I like it
or not

I pay the attendant
in nickels and dimes
when I say I'm sorry
I see it's been your face
this entire time
I'm tired of looking
for things not there

You raise a single
slight finger, pointed
to the showers
I cannot even imagine
the pain held within
the walls of your home
I concede

Closing my eyes
inside this dream
I use my hands
to find the corners
my fingers looking
for a way inside
I thought I found something

I did.

You
sitting, naked, cowering
hands hiding your eyes
from the reality
of everything unfolding
before you.
This sordid game of peek-a-boo.