there was the time in third grade
when you sat, silent, in the back row
everyone thought you were stupid. really,
you were just thinking. about what? people'd ask.
i don't know, you'd say. i can't explain it.
the progress report was an unforgiving warden
in paper form: student shows lack of initiative
and discipline. class participation poor.

on all of those early school mornings
when your alarm clock was extra punishment
& you forgot what sun was like.
transfixed with exhaustion, the wall became
infinitely fascinating. the ants
ran up & down & you wondered about them

but didn't tell anyone. there were all those hours
stationed in front of the television, watching the boxed
people live their complex lives, crack witticisms,
tritely philosophize, and remember to smile.
when you laughed at them you felt like a seal,

like the one in the zoo, doing backflips for old fish,
putting its head on its flippers while laying on a
sun-warmed rock. how cute, said everyone else.
you looked straight at it. a scary thought
began to form in your mind. then it was time to go.

when she punched your face,
you were blank paper, waiting for the sloppy
handwriting of bruises. you just couldn't
give her what she wanted: a reaction.
that was all you had left.

around christmas one year, you stood in the middle of the road.
two headlights appeared, intent eyes
glowing, with rage or love. feet steady,
you made contact. you couldn't turn your head,
but remained there, frozen.