AT THE PLAYGROUND

I am at the playground where we met once after school

I was a petite geeky girl much like what I am today

Only the gold-rimmed glasses have been replaced by invisible frames

I lay my backpack on the ground and sit upon the swing

There are murky clouds hanging in the distance

And the sun is struggling to break free

I am nervous about meeting you here

It is somewhat desolate in the winter time

I am that misery chick sitting behind you in English class

I like your poetry

And the way your voice barely raises

Beyond the register in which you speak

You always glance at me when passing papers behind me

I would glance down quickly to escape the gaze of your eyes

So why the hell would you want me to meet me?

I am a stupid girl sometimes

What would a jock possibly have to say to a bookworm?

As I ponder these thoughts, I study the cracks in the pavement

The way the grass grows up between them

The way the raindrops turn the pale grey into a dark slate…

Oh it’s raining…what did you expect, stupid girl?

I start walking across the concrete plaza quickly

When I run into you sprinting across the courtyard

My backpack falls down and we reach down simultaneously

You grab it first and give it to me along with your apologies

I accept…visualizing steamy car windows and sweaty backseats

We move down the slick streets slowly as the rain begins to pound the car

You pull over into the parking lot of a pizza place…I should dash out

Before I could confirm that thought, you ask me if I am nervous

You say don’t be; before I could answer truthfully

You love my poetry?

My mouth gasps open at the exclamation

I am in the car with Jeremy, big man on campus

I don’t think I understand the implications of this

Stupid girl gets raped…I create my own front page story

I am not going to hurt you, he says before I could even conjure the media details

You turn a certain way and the light catches your eyes

Emerald orbs laid upon my cola colored orbs

Let me go…I whispered inaudibly

And then I felt the gentle pressure of his lips against mine

And the heat made flowers of fire explode in my heart incessantly

I thought I had died

© Frangelica