Why Fight

In the eighth grade I

Was heading to the subway

I heard my name as I ingested Arizona tea

“You got some juice, b”

“What do you want” was my reply

A pale hand for my bottle and takes it in

And

I

  Walked

              Not knowing

                                       What would come

Eventually my stop was next

I ran out of nowhere to smack one from the back

I don’t know why

And then I left

I thought for years he would hunt me down

But I stayed in town

Never mentioned or heard of it again

Glass windows had been shattered into the platform

I thought this was not okay

Yelling and sounds of violence made me squirm

What could I have for the pain?

Why listen to the screaming?

Why fight on the C train?

I just wanted a way out