We played “Run, Catch, Kill”
with you
though you weren’t actually invited to play.
Still
at the start of recess
every day
when the bell rang
my posse and I
would chase after you and yours
cornering you
taunting, teasing,
touching.

I remember salivating in class
anticipating the time
I could spend near you
abusive, infringing upon your individual space,
changing the name of the game
to “Run, Catch, Kiss.”
Commanding your presence
brought such pleasure
I could not at all explain.

You understood,
sort of,
once accusing me of “liking you,”
as your mother had explained it.
I denied everything
but loved you passionately
from a distance I sought to shorten
each day at recess.

I did such a good job
as a boy behaving badly
and a bad job
of treating you well.
The teachers saw us race,
us chase,
and shrugged it off.
The rest of the kids
soon grew out of their arrested developments
but as you developed,
I grew more arrested,
attentive,
aggressive.

For all those days,
I just couldn’t leave you alone.