When We Were Sophomores

Everyday you’d walk me home from school

and carry my books while I’d listen

to your daring football practice feats

and rave until you’d grin

and call a race.

You always won because

I couldn’t jump the ditch, and

you were glad I was a girl

until you’d run ahead and hide and

jump at me and scare me

so I’d scream for half an hour.

You’d just laugh, and I’d get mad

and wouldn’t talk, but then

we’d cross the street

where you’d always take my hand

and not let go for the rest of the way.