Why Fight
In the eighth grade I
Was heading to the subway
I heard my name as I ingested Arizona tea
“You got some juice, b”
“What do you want” was my reply
A pale hand for my bottle and takes it in
And
I
Walked
Not knowing
What would come
Eventually my stop was next
I ran out of nowhere to smack one from the back
I don’t know why
And then I left
I thought for years he would hunt me down
But I stayed in town
Never mentioned or heard of it again
Glass windows had been shattered into the platform
I thought this was not okay
Yelling and sounds of violence made me squirm
What could I have for the pain?
Why listen to the screaming?
Why fight on the C train?
I just wanted a way out