try to behave

...she sits on the steps they're a mountain and i'm always clamoring to reach something but...and she had saddle shoes on, and thick socks, and long dark hair and a deep shade of skin and her hair was pulled back yes as mine was in a handkerchief because we are lazy and pretend we don't mind not being beautiful in ourselves and she's sketching in a little book oh no wait she's not...that's a bible, she's reading so intently it felt to me like sketching or scratching of some sort...she looks up and touches my arm lightly to keep me from continuing and she smiles open and asks "may i ask a question" and she is a beautiful girl and i feel strange like in a book this keeps happening more and more sometimes and...i nod and she says "have you ever tried to find the truth?" and i say "um i have to go to class" and she gives a bright patronizing smile and lets go of my sleeve and of course i'm a dork but sometimes i am as cynical as the next student and arh...and i miss the public market because of the christian literature book rack tied to the maple tree...the dirty scratched up half-belief that we can be saved or at least try to in the middle of joe's urban blight...but i don't know does it look in my face like i'm the girl who collects and saves tidy squirreled away all of those saveyoursoul pamphlets and yet i still marvel at the double edged sword meaningness of the word, "literature" and i don't ever want to be a part of you but i don't want to go either and...i don't know where i am supposed to go...and i only have cliches to carry me round and round and...i'm sometimes tired...but "it goes away, i promise" and...i love them so. i don't know.