Eraser
8th grade algebra class
Hyper chit chat from black-caped Louis
And his stringy long-haired buddy Richard
In the hallways before class they slap
The bare back necks of unsuspecting classmates
Stamping foreheads
Making the nuck nuck and whoop whoop of Larry Moe and Curly
That’s what they were re-enacting
With knees slipped under their tiny desks
As Mr. B has his back turned
Scratching formulas from his nails on the blackboard
When he pivots like a pitcher to boos
Lifts his toes to first base and baseball throws
The felt eraser full of all his mis-calculations
A lifetime of rage
Poof powder
Waffle imprint on Richard’s cheek
A cloud of chalk blonds his hair
Beards his performance grin
Richard has a look like when he’s seen his dad
Come home again and again and again
After happy hour
Leaps to his bedroom door
Holding the side of his face
“You can’t do that! You can’t do that!”
Out he disappears
Mr. B clasps his hands and fixes his face to his family
“Now for quiet.”
And we don’t dare say anything.
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