i flip through the high
school
year
book. it seems that
we all looked so clean cut.
almost innocent.
boys with
hair parted
on the sides
the sheen of brylcreme
catching the light.
the girls with tall
loafs of hair
sprayed hard,
most appearing demur
and shy.
we looked
serious
and older than we were.
black and white.
just children,
but already
imitating our elders,
getting ready
for the roles we were
about to play
in life.
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