She read to our class about rape and race,
More freckles than tears on her beautiful face.
She smiled and said reach out anytime,
A few months later, I did, when I felt my prime.
The kindness was gone, the smile dead.
Her rejection drilled through my heart and I bled.
I bought a pack of pills,
And drove to empty, paved hills.
I swallowed the words, the pills and pain,
Then the firefighters came.
Under fluorescent lights and tubes, I came through,
And to Joshua Tree, like a tumbleweed, I blew.
I never wrote her again, but her name pops up,
Her fame rises with each American cultural hiccup.
And I see those freckles in a different light,
She has already lost sight.