The Center

The cool, blue tiles at the Center were a soft memory of downtown
Where my mom and I once picked red flowers from bushes on Christmas
There was a time when she decided to take me to the Center for lessons.

Coming out of the stall in the bathroom 
I saw a body lay across the floor
I wasn't sure if they were alive so I ran out without checking a pulse
I was only twelve or so and I found someone and told them about it
I spent a long time wondering if they were diabetic or overdosing.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2019

Poem

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