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the fossil record |
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#4 |
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Days of July 1967 I'm 12 till next month, blond, crewcutted, grinning-I can't know that my hair will ruin me in September when I'm in junior high. 7th graders mouth love, love, love, slap flower decals on notebooks, yet when I walk down a hall, they can tell, they know- that's Pobo-he's gay. They go after me: don't I know The Beatles wear it long? Why aren't I with it? A stupid faggot, that's why, so they slam me into lockers, follow me, threaten. I'm too ashamed to tell my parents. Jesus? I pray but he says he loves me, not my sin. Whatever my sin is- I sense it coming, a door seen in the distance. But right now, it's July. Mom's got clothes flapping on the line, and later I'll ride bikes uptown with some neighbor kids. It will be getting dark soon. —Kenneth Pobo |
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