All I knew prior
to eighth grade
were books 
and bible camps.

Now there were lockers
and puberty,
rules and jokes
I didn’t understand. 

There was no one
to catch my fall when flip-flop
slid across spilled water.

No one
to tell me I needed a pass
to use the bathroom.

There was someone 
to ask me if I was gay
when they saw the rainbow 
belt around my waist.

But no one
to tell me to go home
when I got pink eye. 

No one would 
say the word 
sex
but they asked
if I knew about “it”.

I knew all about adultery
and the way desire can hurt a family.

I didn’t know what to do
with my feelings

so I poured them 
into a water bottle.

The lid rattled
on the bumpy 
bus ride home.