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Aerodynamics of Thought
In class, the aerodynamics of thought -
the engineer commandeers our papers.
She wears a blindfold over mouth and nose,
trains us on how to crease and navigate.
The solid white and dotted lines, on course.
Teach’ will enforce sans imagination.
Argumentation on the plane - not good.
It will set sail - students will stay in line.
The race is on, some fast, some slow, no-goes.
Leader nods approval to bobbing heads.
A seamless exercise in full control.
But, today, here I am with crimson paper
tucked into my binder. It opens eyes.
Without boundaries, abruptly I crease
the wrinkles of the teacher - she demands
that I cease. I can’t hear her - she’s muffled
behind the ridiculous cloth, of lack
of common sense, and pomp; her eyes seething.
I complete my assignment filled with glee.
The path I take in life, adventurous.
I’m weaving left and right. I’m not unseen.
I break the sound barrier, and speed of
light. My fuselage - twenty-four seven lit.
I lift past the classroom, way past normal,
until my death. The teacher grabs my plane,
tears it up…”will not be tolerated!”
She hands me a page - a solid white sheet.
I paint it bright red, concealing the dots.
Copyright ©
Kim Rodrigues
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