Gia R

A Nod Goodbye


I sit there, and kick a coffee cup,


I bounce my filthy white shoes off the ground,

While curling a single ringlet of hair on my finger,


I watch the train leaving for Pittsburgh,

Give a goodbye nod to the man who sat next to me as he leaves,


I pick my worn, thin nails,

While catching glimpses of the old man wearing Converse shuffle away,


I start humming a song, while smiling at the young girl writing about me,


I finally board my train going to the South Hills,

No longer waiting.

Faded Blue Jeans


It was getting incredibly hot and humid

inside the brown leather wallet.

I sigh as I rock

back and forth

in a pair of faded blue jeans,

waiting to see light again.

Suddenly I am blinded


catch a glimpse of the nimble fingers

that pull me out of the darkness.

Seconds later,

I am in the hands of the acne-covered cashier.

Why must I keep traveling?

Will I ever find a home?



Green can be many things.

It can be the calming outside, where people find peace and tranquility.

It can be envy, jealousy, disdain.

Or it can be the spring dew




The newly cut blades of grass.

Green is a peacefully jealous shard of grass.


The School Year

      As I lay on my itchy, grimy picnic blanket, lookin’ up at the sky, I think about the school year that is coming up. I am anything but excited. Ma doesn’t understand that this year needs to be different. I need to be different. The halls will be clogged with intimidating peers, at least intimidating to me. They’ll all carry diamond encrusted pencil toppers and invisible ink to pass secrets during class. But Ma refuses to buy any of the school supplies they have. So does Pa. But he’s givin’ in more than she is. If he doesn’t give in soon, I’ll look very out of place in this new school. I always have. All my life. The 8th graders are gonna be sneaking out of classes. Even the 6th graders are gonna be chewin’ and spittin’ gum in 50 flavors all day. But I’m scared about fitting in. I’m scared to take chances. I can’t take chances. What if I get everything they have, but still act like the pigeon in a herd of peacocks? Like I have to be invited to fit in with the kids that own the diamond encrusted pencil toppers and invisible ink.

 Yellow Caterpillar

     I know I have to have a tree. A Maple, like the one on Vallevista. One I could climb on. But we don’t. My house on Pueblo does not. My mom said we would get one when we first moved here. So did my dad. But we never did. We used to have a swing from Vallevista. My sister broke it. My mom said she was disappointed and would buy a new one. My dad said he would fix it. But they never did. Pueblo doesn’t have a lot of things Vallevista has. Like the yellow caterpillars that seemed to shimmer or the fluttering butterfly bush in the front yard. Or the anthill I would stuff popcorn in as a kid for the ants. Or the family of bunnies under the shed. Or a swing. Or a Maple.



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