Sta.sh
Asphalt has always hurt the worst, its menacing heat waves
Getting under your skin, tearing at your muscles
And the very sinews that bind you together.
The abhorrent smell binding you to some childhood memory you’d like to forget,
Stinging your nostrils as it did all of those years ago.
The bounce of a basketball filling your ears
With memories of screaming boys, vying for some unknown award
On the court of a local park.
And there you sat watching intently,
Praying that you could be like them.
As if your wish was granted, they notice you sitting there.
The culmination of your childhood.
But, then they notice your size, weak and uncertain,
And your clothes, lank and venerable,
And your hair, matted and peculiar.
Then, they started calling you things like “fag” and “queer”,
The words submerging into your heart.
You couldn’t help but cry, further adding to their insults.
They picked you up, your frame limp, and threw you on the ground.
The metallic scrape filled your ears as searing pain coursed through your body.
Your eyes were livid; your mouth was slowly filling with blood.
The constant blows seemed to line with your palpitating heart.
And all you knew was asphalt.
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