See those girls there–
they are the laughing girls.
There are lots of laughing girls. They sit in their
loose ripped clothes and their loose ripped laughs
keel through the classroom, they are
Tough and brace-straightened, thoughtless and
transfixed and
tacitly transcendent.
They like me because I know what to say, how to walk
The pinhead line between wit and alienation
When to give and when to hold back.
(The key to Comedy is
Timing.)
And I sit with thigh-touching inimitably
Plaid pants crossed and the
laughing girls like me as long as I am not a
threat (I sort of want to laugh
too.)
They exchange gum and fight over the last piece
fight over whose laugh is coldest, whose
Breath smells like ghost.
Boys might not take notice yet but
this is the mating dance--
Loose ripped jeans loose ripped laugh
minty mindless and
meticulous Morgana me sits making
Magic out of graphite
Watching as
lives begin that will
go on
the same way
forever. Monotony
is what I fear most.
YOU ARE READING
Glitter, Failure, and the High School Experience
PoetryDramatic, dramatic poetry about anything and everything that gives me too many thoughts to say any other way.
