Girl sings silly songs from the dirt-pressed bleachers,
Clenched fists pulling up against split ends,
Dirty nails digging into flesh like an icepick.

Watches the boys playing their “ball” games,
captivated by their taut forms,
So much so like Zeus made mortal.
Made accessible and touchable,
Kissable and fuckable.

Her gaze shifts across to
Their steady shoulders,
Their lips and hips.
Take me, take me, she would scream and shout
In her unripe, green mind.

She isn’t fast enough,
Not willing enough
To sprawl herself out
On the oft-grazed pastures
Where the other birds played.

She never got her feed,
Her fill,
Her treat.
Just a calf sucking on half a teat.