I remember
the touches.
Constant.
Low.
I would shrug
my shoulders
and straighten my spine
to erase the dip
where his hand
liked to rest.
The discomfort
too much, too strange
to voice,
frightening
to be pulled aside
as classmates
walked through his door
uncontested.
Three weeks
and finally
I switched
to a class where
I could be
just
a student.
