Sick

I couldn’t stop
saying it was
“sick” to see her
in a college hallway,
having last
annoyed each other
in eighth grade.

What I meant
was that I liked her,
that I loved to follow
where our banter led.

But after one
sick conversation,
she never looked at,
much less
spoke to me again.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Gerald So edits The 5-2: Crime Poetry Weekly. His recent poetry appears in Defenestration and BEAT to a PULP.

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