lips leaning in
against
the cold arc of water
from the steel
fountain
in the school hall,
comes to mind
for no reason
at all.
the battery of closed
lockers,
the linoleum
floor
scuffed and dirty.
the smell of food
boiled
in the cafeteria.
the startle of a bell.
these days
never leave
you,
they continue on.
No comments:
Post a Comment