SHAME

I am big for my age.
When I have my tonsils out, I can color and count,
but I can't tie my shoelaces yet.
A frazzled nurse has to help me 
so I can walk down the hospital corridors
with my mother, towards home and familiar.
Imagine that, the nurse says.  She's kneeling,
her cap pinned to her head like a blank
piece of paper I was supposed to have filled
with a picture.  She pulls my laces too tight,
giving me a sloppy single knot.
You should be ashamed, she says, and I am.

                  The gynecologist has trouble fitting the speculum.
                   I wince until tears run into my ears.
                  The boys must love you, she attempts at a joke.

One day we have to hang from a rope
tied to a ceiling.  We call our blue and white gym rompers
monkey suits.  All the girls hate this class,
but none as much as I do.  Mrs. Jordan
is timing us, testing for arm strength.
She is upset that I hang for barely a second
and wonders aloud, if I'm called upon
to do a problem on the board in math,
if I'll even be able to hold up the chalk.
  
                  If you'd only relax, this wouldn't hurt so much.
                  There's a poster to my left of the female reproductive
                  system, a hot pink vagina and a murky brown rectum.
                  The vulva is white like a billowing pillow case.
                  The doctor's voice is taut.  Come on now, relax.

I don't understand the concept of Frenching.
So when my prom date drops me off,
saying he wants a good night kiss,
I close my eyes, stick out my tongue,
and by mistake, lick him on the cheek.

                   I don't know why this should be so difficult.
                   You're not a virgin, are you?  He pulls
                   my knees apart.  I've never
                   been to the same doctor twice.

When my driver's license is still very new,
I'm waiting at an intersection where a school bus
is letting off small children.  Its red lights flash
and I know enough to stop, but a guy behind me
is honking his horn.  As I try to remember
the manual's rules, he honks again
like I'm doing something wrong.  I slowly inch 
towards the bus, and there's another honk.
Immediately I'm pulled over by a cop.  The ticket
is one hundred dollars, my whole savings account.
You could have killed someone,  the cop says.  A little kid.
Just then, Andy the class gossip walks by
and all of Woonsocket High will know tomorrow.

                    I close my eyes and take
                   deep breaths.  The gynecologist inserts
                    the long Q-tip so she can swab my cervix.
                   When he forced himself into me
                    it was cold and metal just like this.
Girl Soldier