Teen Slob

You bent over to pick up a book in the school hall and your underwear was all bunched up. They weren't Calvin Klein-perfect. They were kid-like and kind of ugly. But. I liked you. I liked you, you know, even with the small roll on your belly and that pimple on your cheek.
I always liked the way you walked. You had the proud about you. Your feet didn't stick out to the sides like a duck's. They were model-straight.
I never saw anyone pick on you so that was a good sign. And when we walked together outside you didn't bump into me a lot accidentally and you even touched my hand once or twice on purpose.

I'm a man now and I see you all still and sombre on that foggy night. The rain sits on your face as you tell me that your family has to move and now I can see that tear in among all those drops. I wish I'd swallowed it. I wish I'd done something gallant like fallen to my knees and kissed your hand like the boy who loved a boy who I was...
I miss you, my slob. I miss you so much.