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Sorry Shawn-Te MAG
One memory I have from fifth grade is this:
Teasing a rather tall, obese girl named Shawn-t"
On the playground during recess.
I remember suddenly being chased by her,
The air being forced out of my lungs.
I remember finally giving up,
My efforts all in vain,
My feet skidding underneath me as
Shawn-t" thrust her entire body forward,
Knocking me face first into the pavement.
I remember the stinging scrapes on my face and
The severe throbbing of the two-inch cut in my hand.
Most of all I remember
The incredibly raw sensation of the needle and thread
Sewing a jagged trail to recover the bone in my palm
At the emergency room that night,
And, as I look down at my searing cut
That has a leftover rock lodged in it,
I can still smell the dizzying aroma
Of cleaning products down the hall,
Five years after it all happened.
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