stuck in a

blue room with tiles along the

ridges, edges, ridged walls paper thin &



grass-stained jeans & you're

not looking at me but at

her, while she stares (glares) at

the boy in the back of the room whose

eyes dig into the back of my head more like

teeth than blue

or maybe they were green

all along

and we've been lying to ourselves even more than

we've been lying

to you

(but were we ever?)