She walks on the sidewalk

With pigtails tied off in bows

And skips over the cracks of asphalt.

He runs up behind her

Light up sneakers pounding pavement

And tugs one of her plaits.

She giggles and darts down the walk.

She is able to get away.

She walks on the sidewalk

With a training bra she doesn’t need

And bare shoulders from her tank top.

He runs up behind her

With a superhero backpack

And snaps her strap.

She shoves him away from her, fighting back.

She is able to get away.

She walks on the sidewalk

With shorts instead of a dress

And kicks a rock across the concrete.

He runs up behind her

With a cap and attitude from his brother

And shoves her to the asphalt.

She gets up and brushes gravel off her knees.

She is able to get away.

She walks on the sidewalk

With her hair in her face

And a jacket zipped far up.

He runs up behind her

With his boyish jokes gone, replaced with malice

And grips her wrist with whispered taunts.

She freezes with fear, the boy has caught up to her.

And she isn’t able to get away.