I see your dark green jacket resting on the chair.

The sleeves not fitting the length of your long arms. 

Dirt marks as big as pennies stain the back

From playing football against the lower grades at your elementary school 

You beat them twice so far even though your team is lacking in players

You love to play still

Though your mother doesn’t like when you come home 

With grass burns below your shorts

She wishes you were more careful

But you run faster next time you play, 

As if you were chasing a squirrel

You come home after school 

And your mother manages to mask the scratches on your legs with bandaids and ointment

Through her reminding you to be careful 

You plan how you’ll play tomorrow, the last day of good weather, 

I’ll be safe, you say

While the putrid nail-polish-like smell 

From the black new-skin bottle fills your nostrils

You nervously await the burning sensation

It hits you fast as if you got the same cut again

And it hurts so bad

But you’ll feel it again tomorrow