Boot

the plastic tube

where hateful words were scrawled in black sharpie

and elementary kids crowded around to

learn some new words

and giggle about the blasphemy.

his name was Joshua,

although you didn't know that yet.

you knew him by some other names,

Ethan and Rowan, for example.

he had tormented you for a few years

and you couldn't wait for fifth grade

because then he'd be in a different school.

in fact, he leaves in the middle of fourth grade

expelled.

it's only partially your fault.

he was different from the other bullies,

because he didn't hurt you with words.

he attacked, he pushed you down,

made your elbows and knees bleed.

but you didn't care.

you didn't care.

you let it all wash away,

ignoring it like your Mama told you.

but then came The Day Of The Green Tube,

where you hid.

you curled against the side,

refusing to leave.

he would find you.

he always finds you.

even when you're not in school,

he haunts your neighborhood,

a malevolent ghost.

he will find you this time too,

drag you out of the tube by your foot,

and in the middle of biting winter,

he pulls your boot off

and throws it at your face.

the snow cakes to your skin,

the boot presses into your flesh,

and all that carefully crafted numbness

collapses.

and for the first time since his torment started,

you cry.

you tried so hard to stifle your tears,

refusing to show weakness,

the way you were taught:

Don't Be A Crybaby.

he acted shocked.

he said that it was the first time he saw you cry.

and that was true,

because no matter how hard he hit,

you laughed it off.

but not this time.

this time, you sobbed.

the charade was over.

yet you took his words as a compliment.

how fucking stupid.

why do you let his words warm your heart?

he does not deserve it.

he said that it was the first time you cried.

that he had never seen that before,

and you took that to mean

that you weren't weak.

you weren't a crybaby.

and between insults on the bus and crushing inner voices,

you were so thirsty for praise that

even his mocking words

seemed like the truest compliments.

and so, with tears drying on your face,

freezing in the winter air,

you felt good.

you enjoyed the pain.

because you succeeded.

you hid the pain.

and even though you reached your breaking point, it was okay.

and so you laughed with frozen tears and frozen mind

as you chased him down to get your shoe back,

one sock soggy with melting snow.

he finally gave it back.

all's well that ends well.