School

Assembly. Disassembly. Reassembly. When the bell tolls it tolls for me. Alone I walk in crowded concrete corridors; feet, doom-laden, slapping thermoplastic floors. Years we will do this. Years we will be taught. Years we all will walk in concrete corridors. Walking unto the light, freedom's light; walking unto the world of women and men. Armed with bestowed knowledge that two and two makes four, the Battle of Hastings was fought in 1066, energy can neither be created nor destroyed... wandering lonely as clouds... Freedom fighters, guerrilla's armed with this potency and so much more. The echo of the concrete, of slapdash feet on thermoplastic, may well reverberate, reaffirming their message of doom. Yet that is further away than the eye can see. Now is sweet honeydew Summer, the best years of a life yet to come. Assembly. Disassembly. Reassembly. Man, are we up the Swanee. And though we know it now is not the time to care...