Ten o’clock is too late at night to meet for a date,
but our young hands ache from pencils and
TV dinners told us we should be together.
We walk to the The Oriental Pearl,
where a quiet raisin of a woman
serves us a sleepy bowl of rice.
We sit silently as rain slides down the windows.
The waitress wants to go home to her soap operas.
I think about kissing another boy, maybe a girl.
You tell me you don’t think things are working out:
I’m distant, we both deserve better,
your dad is hounding you about baseball.
You slowly put on your wet coat, smile at me with pity.
I stare at droplets of spilled tea on the waxy wood.
They look like the shapes of continents undiscovered.
Grace Meyer is a junior at Brookline High School in Brookline, Massachusetts. She won a Fine Arts Award for Creative Writing from Interlochen Center for the Arts. When she is not writing she enjoys running, baking, and photographing her dog.
Art by Holli Shelton.