I wanna dedicate this poem
To a lovely teacher named Ms. Trueman
Because she taught me that no matter how much I feel
like the world is full of lies, 
There's always a truth waiting
In a poem that can scoop me up
When I'm stuck on the monkey bars and need a hand down.

And to Emily
Who's been the one I think of just when I believe I'm alone,
When I am alone, she's there.

And to the batty old ladies
Sent by a god that might be out there
To tell me I look like Cameron Diaz on the days I feel fat and ugly.

And to the people who've carried me,
If only a  few feet apiece,
To accepting myself for who I am:
A queer queer with passion for passion and a hell of a lot of love to give.

And to the seventh grade advisor
Who never stopped caring when the school day, week, year ended,
Who's been a confidante, a surrogate mom,
and a damn good history teacher.

And to the rooftop friends
Who make life feel like TV–
Real for once
Giving me a break from living vicariously
through the perfect bastards on the screen.

And to the sneak attack hallway hugger
Whose unexpected spins
cause painful spinal injuries and warm fuzzy feelings

And to all the people who gave a damn,
Give a damn,
And will continue to  give a damn,
This one's for you. 

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