Quiet Walk Home

no one understands high school,
the loneliness after the last bell,
the hoping for contact,
that girl
in the far seat in math
so untouchable
that pain of separation lasts the entire
weekend.

not even the promised boiled dinner,
that old English recipe, can soothe you
where you hurt, can stop the aching,
the dreams provoked by a Vivaldi
melody heard down the hall
from orchestra practice.

but quiet streets and autumn
leaves in the gutter, somehow bleak,
yet somehow nostalgic, show this day
might be remembered, as if you can
hold onto Vivaldi in your heart,
and walk with that girl all the way
home.