I saw them making out, Sheila whispers
from the stall next to mine. We're standing,
hidden from each other on opposite sides 
of the same cold wall. I imagine
her brother's hand surprising itself
inside some girl's sweater, small hairs jittery
along the map of her neck. Her eyes were shut.
I open mine wide, lean closer.
She was making small noises, like a bird.
I form my mouth into an 0, press my lips
against the door. He was licking her ear.
The bow of my breath lingers, 
then disappears, I hate the ordinary 
boredom of my life, my cotton underpants, 
the sharp question of each hipbone. Hey, 
she says, knocking on the wall.
I play with the lock, spitting its silver tongue 
into the waiting mouth of the door.
What's your secret?