Junk Boy

its fall
was no fall because it sometimes
floated sideways or even up
like it didn’t care
like it was having fun
before it touched the packed dirt
of the trail bed
I watched it settle there
dizzy from its fall
watched it settle in
watched it sleep
until the crows
those jet-black jokers
laughed their ugly laughs
in the black branched trees
like a gang of bullies
knowing stuff
you never could
cackling there
like witches over a curse
and thanks a lot it all comes back
my throat goes tight
and I remember now
I’m on my way
to
school

I Didn’t Want to Think
about the art room slap girl
who kisses girls
just tried to make
hard eyes at everything
but they (my eyes) said
Ha. You wish.
and started spotting her
and only her
in the halls
in the caf
in classrooms that I passed
my head was down
was always down
but all at once my
eyes go
Look!
and there’s her face
like a full moon in a black sky
a fiery peach
on a field of gray
by third period I couldn’t not
look for her
and always found her
why?
who the heck is
Rachel Braly
anyway?
(I saw her name
on her art)
I want to say get out
my brain’s too cramped
and full of junk
I have my stuff
leave me alone
Hey, she’s not looking for you, Junk.
You’re looking for her.
you don’t know what
you’re talking about—
but boom
just before
the day clamped shut
and I could run home free
there she was again


Final Period
I stood next to last
in the gym line
with that rock-brained pig
(I don’t need
to say his name
everyone knows him)
standing behind me
Hey, Junk, feel that?
I turned
feel what?
he thudded my arm
with a fist of brick
That.
which started the
pummeling
punch after punch
in the same place
And that. Also that.
until he saw Coach
look stupidly up
from his stupid clipboard
I never guessed
the sick-gut
feeling you can get
from being punched hard
anywhere
maybe he shook
loose the last gob
of acid from my throat
and it splashed into
the sick pool of my gut
whatever it was
vomit sudden and hot
coughed up my throat
into my mouth
I doubled over
saw the door across
the gym to the lot outside
and staggered to it
Coach from his clipboard
shouted
Hey, Lang, what the heck?
Get back—
then through the door
three steps four five
before that burning bile
lurched up and out
and on the yard
a swamp of thin white goop
on the ground
behind the b-ball hoop
it came and came
then came the sting
of smoke
burning my sick-filled
burning nostrils
I looked up
and it was her


Her
I hate hate hate
this part of my brain
I’m in right now
if it’s the part
all this junk
is clunking around in
but there she is
her bright eyes looking
like she knows she’s smart
and something about
her hair the way
how even though it’s short
it curls all over
I know I know
she’s got a girlfriend
that’s so not it
Isn’t it?
she can draw
a peach that moves
a peach so real
that real peaches
can look at it
and understand
what
being a peach
is
all about
but she never smiles
not real smiles
not when I look at her
just these flat stretches
of her lips
a kind of cold slit
and anyway her
freezing smiles
don’t make it to her eyes
which like I said are bright
but seem just now as if they’re
reading a bad word
what makes her not
like any of the others?
I know I shouldn’t ask
I know I know
but I don’t know
still there she is
behind the trash bin
squinting at me
her fingers stained with paint
pulling a smoking cigarette
out of her mouth
slowly like she knew I was
no threat
I spat out the last
of the slop
You should do it in your hand.
she said
Puke in your hand.
It’s funnier.


Again That Thing
came back to me and I
didn’t want to go there
so I said
somebody was smoking
on the trail last night
which was like
nothing to her
They don’t really call you Jerk?
I spat out the last spit
Junk
I said
stupidly
they call me Junk
she stepped toward where
I was getting up
Because of where you live?
how did she know
it was you on the trail
I had to get out.
at first I didn’t
say anything
My father finally gave up and left.
I told you, right? Well, he moved out last night.
It’s just me and her now.
God, just looking at each other is like
A storm of razor blades.
I saw that storm
slivers of silver
slicing
across the breakfast plates
Everything she thinks hurts.
Mothers are the worst.
I wouldn’t know
I didn’t say
I couldn’t tell if
she was
in the middle
of a conversation
with herself
or wanted to talk
to me and only me
(maybe because of what I saw
in the art room
and what I said
about her peach)
but she stopped then
took another drag
there was no noise
so I said
I’m the opposite
What?
it’s just me and my father
Jimmy, I mean
he’s . . . yeah . . .
kind of a jerk too
I had no idea where
my words were
coming from
Does he drink?
My father does, a little.
mine too
not a little though
Everybody does
Except my mother.
and her face again
was all I could look at
I couldn’t
not look at it
not see it
like money
on the sidewalk
your eyes go
right to
I know I know
she’ll probably yell
Stop staring!
but she didn’t
like she had hard eyes
seeing only what’s inside
Maggi.
I looked around
where?
there was no one
there but us
My mother in the art room.
She’s so clueless, but I guess
That was the first time she actually saw us.
So that’s why
All you saw . . .
okay
I mean, I get it
you and Maggi
is she okay
after that
I mean you’re both still . . .
I had no clue
where I was going
Yeah. She was freaked, but mostly, yeah.
okay yeah
But now my mother
Wants the priest,
Can you believe it,
To reformat me
Or something.
Father Percy?
I said
then said
for how long?
I don’t know, however long an exorcism
Takes. Or whatever. It’s not going to happen.
no, I mean
Maggi
how long have you . . .
A few weeks. God,
Do you ever blink?
I tore my eyes off her
and looked away
Freaky.
she said then stubbed
her cigarette
under her shoe
By the way,
You have a big gob of puke
On your sleeve.
thanks
Hey, if a friend doesn’t tell you,
Who will?
friend?
at the same time
that she turned away
Coach pushed out the door
Lang, what the heck?
You okay?
uh
Because if you’re done
Throwing up,
You got two minutes
To change and get
To homeroom.


So That Day
was a stupid kind of joke
a punched-up arm
a puked-up shirt
sweaty underwear
the smell of vomit
in my nose
and her
Friend.
her
Freaky.
I ran off at the first
ring of the last
bell
kept my eyes hard and down
visor closed
didn’t see her again
didn’t see
anyone
good


The First Thing
after I got home
I walked right past
the growing mound of junk
as if I had a hoodie on
or blinkers like a horse
past all the other rubble
straight to the bus
her camper bus
that stood
just beyond the cleared
space I had made
to where the trees grew thick
and where the slope
continued sloping
to the creek
I wondered why and how
my dad (if it was him who)
drove the bus back there
and let it die
among the trees
so far from any road
why did he