A valuable life lesson
To all unenlightened seventh grade boys:
Being sons of the male gender,
First find a good sculptor near you
And a rock large enough to be your head.
Because that’s what it should be
Chiseled out of stone. Waterproof.
Because crying
Is only for pretty girls, saggy old ladies
And dogs with eye allergies.
And somehow,
If a stream trickles through the rocky outcrop,
And dares to dampen your sands,
Lick it with your tongue
Before it dribbles down your chin.
I watched my PE teacher
After I fell down and bruised,
My heart swelling into my throat
Like a bloated pink balloon,
Ruby red irises cracking under pressure,
Finally oozing like ripe mangoes.
Each drop paid by a slap.
Barely audible, I coughed, ‘why?’
‘Because’, he spat through clenched teeth
’Boys don’t cry!’
No.
