Temples

Will I ever be able

to tell you about myself;

well,

past the superficial things?

About the time 

that I left my lunchbox

sitting on my bed at home

and the bus driver 

rested both of his hands 

on my shoulders

until I stopped hyperventilating

And how about the time

that I hid under the table

at an old aunt's New Year's party

and was clinging onto 

the adults' ankles

and was dragged out

as I screamed

Or how about the many times

when I was home alone

and would cringe 

whenever the house settled

or the floor creaked

or the family dog moved in its cage

And about the time

that my flower-scented grandma 

set my little bum 

on the counter

as I watched her 

make pie crust

Will you care

about these things?