School Boy Valentine

I’m a school boy, in between
unsure of my body’s edges under
my skin, sliding a valentine

between the slots in your locker.
You are the valentine. Or
you are the one who watches

as I cut out hearts from red
construction paper. I’m the one

the teachers ask to stay and talk,
not because I’m bad at school
but because I wear too much

black. You’re the one who sees
full color spectrum in the sparkle

in my eyes, who waits for me
on the merry-go-round after band.
We spend nights in the cemetery,

halfway between our houses, trying
not to let unfinished spirits take

over before we start our own
lives. You kiss me in the dark hall

by the locker rooms. My pink
slip falls from my hand to the floor.