Slick Hands

slick hands
pat upon soft,
prepubescent flesh
in the dim light
of the janitor’s closet
at the end of the hallway
of the gradeschool.

soft whispers
"good, Hayley. . .
quiet, girl. . ."

he moans
indulging himself
in his sick,
twisted pleasures
with the little girl.

finished now,
he hands her a peppermint.
"you won’t tell anyone, will you?"
she nods, scared,
and slips out the door of the closet.

the janitor follows minutes later,
zipping his pants
and scratching with his fingers
the whiskers on his chin.

mopheads and broomsticks--
the only witnesses...
another child’s
innocence lost.