i a little white girl
raised my hand in grade school
ate books tried to speak to
bused kids who voyaged
from stacked cells
in our city’s projects
to the green velvet neighborhood
of tudors
where I lived
who wrangled with teachers but
bowed their heads
while sounding out words
syl la ble by syl la ble
proof we were friends
on valentines day they
stuffed my paper heart
on the bulletin board with
cards whooped when I sent
the ball flying a skill
my brother taught my tutu arms
in our backyard did he
teach me to trash talk also
i did not expect jennifer
after losing a softball game and
maybe her father
or did i make that up
to steam up a hill after me
black eyes snapping cocked
fists sparking the air
my friend pat strong as a boy
daughter of a marine captain
serving in vietnam
stood between jennifer and me
held her off
for the rest of the year
i feared jennifer would
flame up again
junior high pat moved
away we read shakespeare
in english while fights
and threats filled the halls
and cigarettes burned
in the bathrooms
it was 1967 68 the year a white
man murdered dr king
and a palestinian man
killed bobby kennedy
that spring my junior high watched
open mouthed on a hill
at the sight of rising smoke
above our high school on fire
a few green velvet hills over.
