I’ve heard a few lovebirds singing the same
sweet song to each other amongst the
white and pink blossoms of spring.
“I love you so much I want to put you in my pocket”
they sing to one another. Their song sounds
shrill to me.
I can only imagine folding my sweet love up
like so many notes passed in grade school
classrooms, and tucking her away
in my pocket to live alongside crumbs
and lint and cigarettes and toothpicks.
Shouldn’t she go somewhere better than my pocket?
If I loved her I’d at least let her live under hat or in
my bookbag where there’s much more
room and far less itchy crumbs and sharpened sticks.
All students can learn and we will find a away to teach them
Miscellaneous classes.
Deadly grades and empty words
Stares that will bounce off the skin thick as your textbook
The words will sting when they sit in your veins
The words from the teachers make you crumble but making a mess in the hallway will put you in detention
The drive to school will make you want to disappear
No worries, you're invisible anyway
Crowds in the hallway almost always leaves bruises on the curled in shoulders
Nothing is as heavy as your bookbag, well, except your eyelids.
You'll understand barely enough, learn a little if you're lucky, and memorize till death
All students can learn and we will find a way to teach them
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