Grilled cheese, 3a.m. gas station donuts
and how to avoid falling in love with girls
when you're 11.

I don't like girls
I say bold and sixth-grade-girl-bodied.
Shoes still on-- laced up 
to my thighs-- to my neck--
knotted in my hair--
one black chuck and one pink
I lay awake-- pirogue belly towards 
the ceiling of my room that is 
painted to look like the sky--
trace girl bodies in the clouds--
reach under my pillow for a slice
of tangerine gum and chew
until my mouth no longer
tastes like grilled cheese or powered 
donuts and stricken matches
I don't like girls
I like the way she crouches close
to the creek-- traces
circles with her index finger
in the water
and catches frogs with one hand--
I don't like girls 
I like how she opens
tasty cake packages with her teeth and
splits each doughnut in half
to share with me--
We learn to hide our 
powered fingers in each other's 
mittens-- hold hands like statues--
Walking home from the Turkey Hill
at 2:57a.m. she tells me that we're 
out past curfew and for the first
time of many I feel like we
have become part of the dark stomach
of the moon--
the side not so white and glossy 
like rows of powdered doughnuts
under neon lights--
we move like centipedes beneath covers 
of a quilt she pulls me into with her--
we watch a sleepover unfold 
in a warm brownie tray-- between us
we can lay to rest these
sixth-grade-girl bodies--
peanut oil on our knees and powered
doughnuts like snow globe salt
on our gloves
No you don't want to kiss her
You don't like girls
She smells like incense and
the silence of stricken match
You don't like girls
She asks you what boys 
you want to DATE MARRY OR FUCK
You don't like girls
and you can only think of her
You don't like girls
She makes grilled cheese
on a gas stove every day after school--
cuts the sandwich in half with 
the spatula and you learn 
to eat your body in the shape
of a melting triangle--
kiss her like cheese-- and peanut oil
and ripped knees of jeans 
and the stunned body of a frog 
blinking under the grasp 
of our mittens-- 
You don't like girls 
You don't like 
girls.
I learn to tuck my face into
a pillow-- dipped into the
quiet match-stick- black side of the moon
and repeat
I don't like girls
I don't like girls.
I like shadows 
I like the moon
I like grilled cheese
and I like being held in her one
hand like a frog
and washing snow globe
salt off my hands when I get home
to my sky ceiling
in my pink and black chucks
still knotted up to my knees.