"Like Mr. Buck says I'm suspended. Right.
Like Felisha, I saw you peel down, Friday,
Near the woodshop, after the game that night.
You didn't know me; I thought, 'Infidelity,
Man, she's done it to me.' I wanted it
Good just once, Felisha; like in the trees, squirrel
Junkies on needle-thin branches shoot
Me up; blue jays bring lids in tin foil,
Then matches, 'cause that beast was climbing my baby.
A hand like an otter slid down your hair.
A puma pawed what should have been saved for me.
You lifted, skirt like a skunk's tail. You didn't scare.
But I did. When you squealed, as you came, I let go,
Jumped, pretending, that to meet me, your hips rose..."