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s e x e d b l u e s
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J E F F R E Y L O O
I'm the wrong person in the picture --
the caption says "Winners
of the Spelling Bee"
and the girls smiling at me
during the shoot are saying I'm cute,
but I can't believe it.
I'm thirteen,
I'm not white--
I'm unthinkable.
I'm thinking I could get killed for smiling back
because in 4th grade
when Laura asked me to kiss her
her boyfriend threw me across the floor
into her wood-backed steel-tube chair
and ironically as I struggled up
my head bumped under her seat
and her dress fell over my head,
then in the light blue confusion
off balance I bumped into this soft white
patch printed with little flowers
and she squealed, embarrassed,
pushing my head down while I tried to stand
till we tumbled over
and when I knew where my face was
my mouth dropped open
on the most wrong of all places --
I was about to be killed at nine.
I struggled to get up again but she cried my name out
laughing as she slid her whiteness away,
and I came out from under her blue,
her face flushed bright red...
"Why'd you open your mouth, there?"
"It -- it was an accident..."
"It felt good!"
I looked at her boyfriend
and out eyes met, astonished.
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