Mark My Words
Lori Lubeski
If I’m found out
to be illiterate
an idiot
greedy thieving teen
from dumpsters
continually desiring
friction
like the boy I was
if they notice
my squalor,
my pallor
deviant being
politely embarrassed
I’ll call to you
from my fright
I’ll tell you with dignified charm
my subtest scores
significant discrepancy
my point spread
my majority
I’ll qualify
my darkened
brain
while escaping
deafening calls
from beyond what I was
you’ll recognize where I’ve been
you’ll deem me
heroic
I’ll throw a flower to you
from my float in the parade
I’ll toss your child
coins
I’ll wait for you after
for our momentary
escape
from merciless
internal critics
in our polite dialog
we’ll exchange glances
of equivalencies
the subterfuged morning afterhour
of identity
spark of recognition
in your brightening eyes