Yellow Scissors

Your name was Clint and we were in
Mrs. McFerson’s first grade class.
I hadn’t become shy yet. That came later.
I danced on a classroom table and asked you to be my boyfriend.
You said, “no”. So I offered you
my yellow plastic scissors. The shine bouncing off of the plastic drew you in.
You thought about
my desperate offer and accepted my proposal.
The next day my scissors along with my boyfriend were nowhere to be found.

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