Nakamura-Kira

We’re riding in the car like we always do, always on our way to somewhere else. I’m driving, passing highway sign after mile marker, counting the interstates until we get where we’re going. She’s asleep in the passenger seat, skin porcelain pale in the choked dawn sun. It’s streaming through the windowpane in flashes that mark time with the gaps in the trees, just a few hundred miles more. Somehow I can’t see how this is a real thing, real like the way hearts break, but like floating up above here, just looking down into her beautiful face. I shake myself like it was only a dream, but here she is, right here in

He pulled her hair. She kicked him in the shin. He said she had cooties. She said he pees his pants. He called her ugly. She called him a loser. He rang her doorbell and ran. She put a tack on his chair in math. He pushed her books to the floor. She kicked him in the balls. He toilet papered the tree in her front yard. She wrote FAG on his locker. He left a flaming bag of shit on her front porch. She sent the shit back to him U.P.S. He videotaped her undressing in the girls locker room. She stole his clothes during P.E. He dated her best friend. She dated his. He gave his best friend oral sex and told her how good he was.