Jan 11
J. Scott's picture

Summer

It’s early afternoon,
June.
I am 15.
I am walking
home from school,
in a black dress
and from the
backseat window
of some old-ass
rust-bucket
sedan
when this
real nothing
kind of guy
leans out
the back-seat
passenger side
window
and shouts
“Where’s the funeral?”
I walk faster.

It’s mid-morning
July
I am 15
I am walking
to drivers-ed
and as I cross
the parking lot
of the bank
a truck begins
to follow me.
He catches up.
“How old are you?”
I tell him
And he apologises,
drives away.
I did not
want to know
what he would
have said
to an adult.
I walk faster.

It’s dusk,
August.
I am 15
I am walking
in the park
with my mom.
Two men —
obviously drunk —
walk nearby
and I hear
one say
“Are they playing
that Pokemon
game? No, they’re
too pretty to
be doing that.”
and I fill
with rage
and I look
at my mother
and she
shakes her head
“They’re not
worth it”
and we walk faster.