it's all good

before lunch

then recess,

i remember my third

grade teacher

taking me aside and putting her

hand on my shoulder,

tenderly asking me

what was wrong, what was

i so worried about,

afraid of, why are you so shy?

you're way to young to

have all those lines.

i couldn't tell her about

my father beating my mother

last night

after coming home drunk,

pulling her hair

and breaking her arm,

giving her a black eye,

or that she was pregnant again,

so i put a smile on my face

and said, i'm good.

can i go out and play now.

the other kids are 

already outside.