(1987- / Groton, Connecticutt)

Shh, No Talking In Class

Her lips resembled the contents found
Inside of an swisher sweet package.
Broken down, thinly rolled.
Though I had never spoken to her physically.
She sat two rows over from me in class.
Awkward desks with the metal bar on the right side.
This was how I felt sitting beside her.
Wanting to speak, but nothing good to converse ever came to mind.
She revealed a lot about herself without having to say a word.
Michael Jordan shoes, stripped red and black.
Tight fitted jeans with slight rips on the front of her thighs.
I overheard her say she was mixed in heritage.
Half latina, half black.
Her hair shone like silk. Hanging over her shoulders.
Gently caressing the collar of her shirt. Her bottom two buttons buttoned
leaving the top one lose.
A lot of the guys through the hall gave her a hard time.
Murmurs of the rumors from all the different times they hung out.
She mostly kept to herself, alone in thought.
Her face emotionless probably caught in one daydream, or the next.
I tried my best not to stare, but it was something about her
That made me ask if she had a pen I could borrow.
Quietly tucking mine back in my pocket

by Kewayne Wadley

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