I Don't Talk About My Books While

In Midair, Dangling Lost Above The World.

I'm Sorry," I Heard Him Say Again. Then, Out Of The Corner Of My Eye, I Saw A Sudden Blur Of Movement As He Slid Out Of His Seat, Left Some Bills For The Breakfast He Wouldn't Eat, And Walked Away. And As He Did, I Thought Again Of Those Mornings In The Hallway At School, Way Back In Ninth Grade. Everything Had Started In Such Sharp Detail, Each Aspect Pronounced And Clear. Obviously, Endings Were Different. Harder To See, Full Of Shapes That Could Be One Thing Or Another, With All The Things That You Were Once So Sure Of Suddenly Not Familiar, If They Were Even Recognizable At All.

This Was Our Common Ground, The Secret We Shared But Never Spoke Aloud.

He Always Did The Leaving. But Not This Time. She Kept Walking, And Did Not Look Back.

But It Was Okay Not To Fit In Everywhere, As Long As You Did Somewhere.