The Road to Columbine
The girl pulls out her white skipping rope
And grasps the light blue handgrips.
With each jump she whispers quietly
The numbers from her lips.
"One, two, three…" A car approaches behind her.
Engines moan. Doors slam. Heels click on the ground.
A man yells aggressively at his girlfriend
And forcefully pushes her around.
"Nine, ten, eleven," the woman strikes back.
He feels for his gun and pulls it out.
"Twelve, thirteen," a shriek of terror.
"Fourteen—" BANG, he pulls the trigger with a shout.
The cord sharply whips the girl's legs
As she tries to remember the next number.
"55" she finally decides
and throws the rope over her shoulder.
The blood slowly crawls upon the cord,
Creating a scene of blue, white, and red.
A mix of feigned and fooling innocence,
With the audacious violence and bloodshed.
And the girl skips all the way home.
*author's note: 14 in Chinese can be interpreted as "already dead." 55 in Chinese resembles the sound of crying.