(Another boy) 

My friend told me this story about you. After some party, you practically carried your friend all the way home and then, your sister’s friend too. You had the fattest ass that I’d ever seen on a white boy. Baseball thick. These beautiful green eyes and curly brown hair. 

We sat in my shoebox room in Hoben and worked on your psychology project. Something about interviewing and transcribing someone’s life story. We met three different times. You asked for my life story so I told you. Trusted you with stories I never told anyone else. Stories about my parents, my mom having a kid at sixteen. About moving around the country like living in Tennessee and some of the racist shit I never tell people. About feeling alone sometimes. 

You and your psychology and me on my feelings couch in my shoebox dorm room. My friend, the same one who told me the party story, told me that they knew your sister really well and that you came from a good family. When I finally got the courage to ask you out, you beat me to the punch. Told me you were transferring to U of M so that you can pursue teaching in special education. 

There was that one time junior year when you came back to visit and I ran into you at the party. You looked happy. 

The transactions on Venmo are the most I hear about you now.