C. S. Carrier – What’s Highschool?C. S. Carrier
I cheated a lot the notes, the chairs.
The same classroom was different.
What was being when I broke math?
A test looked from the floor.
My tongue, bandnerd, pure fact, walks
in, stops caring, tried by fits,
swimmingpools, those with water, those
not. I’m a super person,
believable, alive, eaten, better out
of the system, batter over
the cistern. Rebellion drops
the sky, the city wealth. The sylph’s weld,
attached to my people, my only cairn.
The fire, school, wastebasket, period.
I burp every 5 seconds, chocolatemilk.
The theatre lacked bricks, gained a phantom.
Who were you who were elastic?
A friend’s dad, every birthday, bored her
with elementary, walk to the house
her birth, just down campus.
But it was so cute, then.
Mean people should’ve been muted.
I’d come home, eat the home,
practical talking, would even the score.
Nobody dances on a sockhop dance
floor, the gymfloor, janefloor.
A wet towel across. Experiences are
overdosing the adrenal text.
I hope my kids would pay attention
to be freaked about catching things.
Kids who stone eachother stone eachother
in big pink books, photos with glue,
blackties, “Tesla rocks!”
Did my father drink knowing I
wasn’t going to be a doctor?
Mom blamed him on the browniepan
of discarded seeds. Everyone rode motorcycles,
Mustangs, especially the surfers,
lettermen, those that wore them
with gold hair, gold spirit ribbons.
The cafeteria moved my heels.
I look into its movement,
the slideshow blankens after 3oclock.
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