prepubescent glory

seventh grade was the
year of the untamed zit, red
and white like pepper-

oni; of growing
me that expanded in all
the wrong places like

a balloon that swells
uncircularily huge
with bumps lumping out,

making floating or
any other graceful move-
ment impossible.

it was a great year,
one which i return to oft-
en especially

when thinking about
those ugly chickens and things
like big bangs and

spider hickey bites
and squatty ganglingness
and awkward haikus.