Popcorn

There is a man on the corner of 87th and Amsterdam. I do not know him, and he does not know me. He wears a red T-shirt with red sweatpants. He wears a red coat with red shoes. He wears a red ski mask on his face.

I’m moving. 

I’ve found a little place in the Past, 

It’s not much but I think it’s quite lovely, very dear, 

And things aren’t working out Here, 

So I’m settling for memories. 

It is started by a piece of paper

written in blue pen ink

smeared as it is folded twice

passed to a friend.

Purple marker replies to blue pen

folded up the same way as before;

If only i had smiled differently,
worn a different skirt, a longer one,
if i had stayed quiet, let him win,
shrunk smaller, been easier to touch,
been harder to hurt, laughed when i wanted to cry,
cried when i wanted to scream.

Preamble

Technically, I’m an immigrant;  

I wasn't born here. 

Technically, I’m too young, 

just shy of a year. 

Technically, I’m inexperienced, 

barely know the rudiments.