A POEM by ANGELA YANG

Yep

You are a good friend
I am a teenage court trial and you are an attractive plea deal

The last time we met I was scared of a last time
Walking the long way to the food court toilets I think
If only you could see you from me

Your voice mini air conditioning
Your bored eyes like keyholes with gold behind
Running me out of words

When I look at you it’s full force and forgetful
of basic unhappiness like wedgies, growing up etcetera
When you fold your one-size-fits-all hand into other people’s
It makes me scratch my beautiful weak chin in secret

On the stairs down I stare at your overall good-looking scalp
and a soft fire walks through me
With you it’s being parallel to a planetarium ceiling
with 4 bajillion interactive galaxies on it

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Angela Yang (she/her) is a high school student from Australia. Her writing has appeared in Soft Union, Dadakuku, and is forthcoming in Michigan City Review of Books and Scaffold.