four years of high school (why i teach)

4

senior year ends up just like

kindergarten: soft tissues in

all the corners. big pillows and

lava lamps. and a poster with

hanging kittens in the nurse’s

office: let’s hang out.

but i have a headache.

so could you write me

a note to skip p.e. just

rest for a while. thanks.

3

junior year is a phase, a room

full of uncoordinated moons,

faces all suspended by strings

with me at the center. and it’s

a little about what to learn. but

mostly how to help them feel.

how to rewire for creativity. and

finding treasure worth digging.

2

sophomore year works you

like a job that quits too late.

because if you don’t, you end up

floating and tethered like a space

robot. a someday drone practicing

barricades in a beached cubicle.

realizing way to late that forced mirror

smile looks like a painted metal morning.

1

what happens here

is usually forgotten.