It was a whole summer
sitting in the park
not any one park
all of the parks

and falling asleep on the bus
leaving a layer of skin
from the backs of my thighs
when I got off three stops

too late.
I didn’t talk to anyone
only the man at the stand
who sold me popsicles.
That was the only thing

I could eat.
I knew it was already over
sucking on splintered residue
my fingers were red for years.

You held my head down
and I broke in half.
Of course that would be worse

You would slit my throat
much later
with a story.

I wrote you a whole book
that summer
and you left it in a drawer.