By her locker or by my locker I don’t remember, and I don’t remember why we were so alone under yellowed fluorescent light in that hallway of dead air after the afternoon bell’s assault, all the other junior high students scattered like eraser bits swiped from the desk, though I do remember having no choice: I was lost in Ellen’s big eyes, blue true as spilled ink shocking loose-leaf paper, asking would she go steady with me, and then her milky complexion began to redden, reticent, and next to the fire alarm, between question and answer, my cold, clammy hands searching for pockets, voices of Michelle and Theresa and Jill and Jessica and Andy and Jake coaching my nerves, she whispered the word and kissed me and, though we’d break up a few weeks later, from that day on, so below as above, she’d taught my heart to be soggy with love.
Kevin Griffin is an English and Creative Writing teacher at Detroit Catholic Central High School. He lives in Plymouth, Michigan, with his wife and sons. His first chapbook,Line and Hook,was published by the Michigan Writers Cooperative Press. His second chapbook,Note the Tone,was published by Celery City Books. His poetry has appeared inThe Broad River Review, Up North Lit, Sheepshead Review, Common Ground Review, The MacGuffin,andSand Hills Literary Magazine,among other publications.