Your given name was Barbara
but I don't think I ever heard anyone ever use it
not even the grown-ups
Joey fit you much better anyway
like the tight Levis and
rocker T shirts
and the denim jacket you always wore
I remember your voice
Low and gravelly
from smoking too much
way back in the seventh grade
You hung with the girls
even the boys were afraid of
but had the prettiest grey eyes
and a cute crooked smile
when you laughed
which wasn't often
We had nothing much in common
except by chance one class
where I let you copy my papers
so you could get a good grade
and you let me borrow your jacket
one afternoon when it was cold
and told me to keep it until the next day
It had the faint sweet smell of marijuana
and the feel of your confidence
I wore that jacket
like a suit of armor
and after that day
the taunts and threats of middle school
never touched me again.
submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday
