Jake's Flea Market

no iron bars

no concrete walls

there are no doors of plate   steel closed 
between what she knows 
before sixth grade and what you’ve 
learned in the seventh

just a school
corridor between where you stand and where she
she never even notices you

middle school   you’re junior high   your hair’s 
straight and shoulder length and ivory blonde and otherwise
you’re no reason for her face to turn

i’d snicker you like a schizophrenic prankster 
giggle you like a tickled idiot   
i’d dance you like a puppet fool   i say
her face’d turn
her eyes’d taste the sight of you   take
it in   swallow

but you’re afraid she’ll be afraid of you