Jekyll and Hyde

At last poetry group meeting it was suggested that we write about our entry into high school. After all these years its still vivid. It took me sixteen years to seek help with the Jekyll and Hyde thing. Still working on it without the alcohol.
A note on the poem :
Our town had IC railroad tracks that split the moneyed side from the poor and working class. One saying on the rich side was "the air even smells different across the tracks."
Not true.
Even though there were a lot of us Frenchmen we bathed more than once a week and didn't pee in the streets.

Across The Tracks

Not here ....
Not this nerdy
barely thirteen year old.
Didn’t belong.
Not this shy French
West side kid.
They think me different,
knew it the first day.

Not here ....
East of the tracks.
not in this co-ed class.
seated next to rich Phyllis,
her jet black hair,
perky cashmere and all.
Not this altar boy, this
Catholic all-boy-
school transfer.

Not here ....
in this elite
high school,
with its polished floors,
uppity kids,
teachers aloof and snooty.
Never make it

Not here ....
dressed in surplus army fatigues
from the wrong
side of the tracks.
Six dozen steel ribbons,
Of Illinois Central tracks,
Dividing city into
“right” and “other” side.

Not here ....
Out of place.
What to do?
Get accepted?
Die?

Here ....
Show them
Go out for football,
quiet your trembling nerd,
unleash the alpha dog.
Make varsity,
play hard, party hard.
Make big-boy buddies,
seniors, returning
hairy-chested WWII vets.

Here ....
Show them.
Jekyll into Hyde.
Make them notice,
screw the studies,
chug-a-lug with the best,
date the cheer leader.
Live it up.
They thought me different,
I'll be different.

Jim