Spawning

The dark door of Roxboro J.H.S. our brick nanny opens to the afternoon. We dash out by the dozen, squinting full of spit and impulse hatching our plans. You find me, find my hand causing a new school of fish to swim up my arm. Holding hands is the first great test: We dare not speak. One word would break the hold. Oh any but the shallowest breath would take you away my solemn shark floating me home over Colchester Road the sidewalks melting sea maples hum warm leather of your jacket so near!

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