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second-grade social

Ashley He / 11

second-grade social

it is peculiar, to be in your body,

but not quite, existent,

feeling thick finger pads picking away the

undone, frayed edges of the old church dress my mom made me wear

and knowing that they are my hands, the ones that play music and write

and destroy clothes like a stranger;

To feel so aggressively, every thump of the speaker through

scuffed gym floors, standing stock-still as the

air, it is buzzing;

but I, me! I am a stubborn dandelion, rooted

in the cracks of the floor,

watching through my not-eyes,

the people I know zoom past,

and I believe I am still,

though perhaps I am the moving car,

and they are the sloping telephone lines,

and I have always just been orbiting in place.

Here, the people move too quickly,

the music is too loud, and the people

lack faces, and I wonder if they are as much

as intruders in their own bodies

As I am.


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