Norman

there was

a boy in the back row of the class,

Norman,

who slept

with his head

on his crossed arms,

making his

ears perpetually red.

there was a wide gap between

his teeth,

and was

freckled madly,

never raising his hand

or even

called upon.

the bowl

shape of his hair

suggested that his father

was his barber.

we whispered that he might

be slow,

never playing

sports, or in a club,

never at a dance,

or smoking behind the school

when the bell rang.

he was just Norman.

i don't know how he

passed a test,

or got any

homework done.

he rarely spoke a word.

but i saw him the other day,

a poster on the wall,

running for congress.

vote for me it read.

vote for Norman

the next Senator of your state.

he had

us played.