Student Publishing Program ::

Allison B.

Lunch

I’m sorry about your clothes.
I wish they hadn’t been ruined.
I wish you didn’t need to wear smelly old gym clothes all day.

I’m sorry about your lunch
Smothered across the floor
Like a sea of spaghetti,
The meatballs like fish out of water
Rolling down the lunchroom floor.
Getting crushed under foot.

I’m so sorry.
I don’t even know your name. But I feel guilty, Freshman.
I know you were embarrassed.
So was I.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2011 EDITION]