FUN THINGS TO DO WHEN YOU'RE THIRTEEN

The first time I came
I was faking
myself into thinking
I'd come,
but all I had done
was shudder
the way I had seen them do
in the movies
and imagined
a white slick of spunk
on the magazine.

Later, I became obsessed with guns.
Every summer seemed to get wetter.
I became obsessed with guns.

IT WAS

for H B–W

It was failing at maths, sweating outside
exam halls, aching for sex, a faceful
of acne that wrecked my fumbling attempts
at boys. Some idiot said, your school days
are the best of your life. It was blind fear
in corridors and changing rooms, hunted
by richer, fitter, prettier kids, who
had the right brand of shoe and designer
jackets. It was the friendships I fostered
among those shadows I hid inside. It was
playing it straight for the gallery, while
dancing another life under lasers
and spotlights. It was Cossack and Freedom,
a lie that I told. It was my first kiss,
the first time I shaved and wore cologne.