Pique
like a kid sitting on the floor
at the Scholastic Fair
debating stealing a book
because he can’t afford it
eats public assistance at lunch
can already see the looks of shame
on the faces
of his parents
when they walk into the principal’s office
so he doesn’t
so he puts it back
and tries to picture imagined worlds
his mind won’t be shown.
Peek
like hearing “don’t peek”
from the lips
of his first girlfriend
removing her bra straps
audibly
and the space between them is filled
with electricity
and when they touch
it’s a revelation
and when they finish
he tells her stories
disguised fictions
makes them up on the spot
like he did
as a kid
when the only time you heard
“don’t peek”
was during a game
of hide and seek
Peak
like seeing your name
on the cover
of a book
and you don’t know
how it got there
even though you do
don’t know
the steps that got you
from point A to B
and if you try real hard
you can almost see
the kid that would go hungry
can almost see
the kid with ripped-up
hand-me-down
jeans
and eyes that wanted
but couldn’t always
see
and now you’re at the top
of a tall
tall peak
breathing in the thin air
and seeing all
you can see
Liza Olson 