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  • Melanie Navarro

A Half Thought

Ms. Andrejko’s pretty face

contorts as if she’s

found a chunk of glass

in today’s G.W. Elementary’s

Specialty: skimpy ham and

pepper jack encased between

two soggy bland boulders.

From the two yard distance,

I could see her gawking ghoulishly

with her jaw to her adam’s apple-

ham and cheese free.

I shrug and continue to skip, slide

and sheep my way through

the snot-dripping

roller backpack toting

crowd subdued,

gravitating toward today’s

chauffeur with bangs slicing their way

right and left, left and right

like windshield wipers

on my forehead.

My white stallion,

now more of a fawnish eggshell,

was your weathered van you

customized yourself with industrial tape

I would peel off.

Maybe that’s what drew Jackie’s face

to imitate Michael Myers.

Or maybe it was the beefy,

hairy arm slouched over the tape

showcasing a portrait of Jesus crying

displayed so closely, like she had won

a front row seat to a Picasso painting.

We almost make a clean getaway

but Jackie decides there will be

no Law & Order material coordinated

on her beady eyed watch and scampers

from the rest of the remaining second graders.

Unveiling your best guilty tot caught

feasting on a crayola grin

you introduce yourself swimmingly,

and I can witness her hair slowly regress

with every wheeze

back into its sleek, shiny mold.

You had that effect.

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