Friday, December 13th, 2013
Caitlyn
Your wild hair
flies behind you
long and straight
as you pump
quick-quick
down our street
never minding
the gravel and breaks,
daring your friends
to catch up.
Taunting the rules
but not the laws
acting cool
when questioned by cops;
aflutter inside.
Born too soon
or perhaps just right;
foster care
when your father died,
overdose.
Mom got clean
took you back
here
to our street.
Now she’s dead.
And you
on the cusp
of womanhood…