Less Fucked in Longwood

We'd arrived in Longwood the week before,
the loss of her still fresh as milk just squeezed (though it tasted like it had been released & left out for weeks).
The neighborhood kids came to check out the new ones
and took me a few blocks away,
where more kids were playing something.
One kid was introducing me to the 7 or so others.
I was crazy shy, just standing there, quiet.
Like, my mom had just committed suicide.

I was 9.

Next thing I knew, my drawers were pulled down.
I panicked & ran off,
tripped, fell, got back up.
Ran home.
It might have been the funniest thing they'd ever seen.
Me. I was crying. A hyperventilating baby.

The kids who took me there came to my house and said they were sorry.
Their parents had heard about what Happened and sent them to calm me.
Not sure if they meant it or if they were staying out of trouble.
Doesn't matter, it felt good.
I felt a little less fucked.

Don't commit suicide, parents.
Don't commit suicide, kids.