stewed tomatoes

there was a kid
in the ninth grade,
a large
freckled boy
with red
hair and fat hands
who would
poke a finger into
your jello or
stewed tomatoes
and say, are you
going to eat that?
holding it there
until you looked
up and answered,
no, go ahead,
it's yours, you'd
say in a high
pitched voice.
you weren't fond
of getting black
eyes or
ears reddened
and nearly torn
from your skull.
plus, you never did
care much
for stewed tomatoes.
still don't.
but the jello,
well that's a
different story.