see you on the playground

the first encounter was the most innocent.
he was pure,
and adorned with cocaine white skin.
it was risky and dangerous,
as the hand of a blithsome youth enclosed around mine,
and so did his lips,
in front of everyone on the playground.
a gentle breeze blew between my legs
uncovered and bare,
as my old uniform from pre-k neglected to confine my kindergarden body.
his fingernails dug into the back of my hand while a
calloused hand circumscribed around my neck.
my teacher dragged me away from the scene:
carrying me all the way to the primary building of my
old Catholic School
and by that I mean, Father John's office.
he sat perched and stiff in a rigid, wooden chair.
his lips were thin and tight as he stared at me through
condescending eyes.
his ostentatious sanctuary sucked me in as my teacher plopped me into a chair.
dusting her boney hands on her navy blue dress skirt,
she slowly closed the heavy, mahogany door behind her.
it was worth it.

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