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THE ARCHIVES: Chapter 23

Watching Him

I sat with my notebook
(during lunch time)
and watched him
(the boy)
like he was a zoo specimen.
I wrote down everything:
the way he moved,
the way he used his pencil to scratch the back of his neck,
the way he turned the pages in his book.
We were the only ones
in the whole cafeteria
not eating or laughing or talking,
but he wouldn’t look at me
if I screamed, waved my arms,
or pretended I was having a heart attack.
It made me wish
we were on the bus again,
so I could have him
(captive)
beside me.

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