I saw them making out， Sheila whispers
from the stall next to mine. We're standing，
hidden from each other on opposite sides
of the same cold wall. I imagine
her brother's hand surprising itself
inside some girl's sweater， small hairs jittery
along the map of her neck. Her eyes were shut.
I open mine wide， lean closer.
She was making small noises， like a bird.
I form my mouth into an 0， press my lips
against the door. He was licking her ear.
The bow of my breath lingers，
then disappears， I hate the ordinary
boredom of my life， my cotton underpants，
the sharp question of each hipbone. Hey，
she says， knocking on the wall.
I play with the lock， spitting its silver tongue
into the waiting mouth of the door.
What's your secret？