The Classroom

Poem By Stephen Gregory

All the looks, the way you feel
The eyes that fall, the hands that will
The touch that won’t
A back, a chin
Deliberate stares, that last for years
A gaze, a frown
The look around
You sweat, they glow
They told you so
Another, like the other
No crease, same shine behind
Perhaps, bleach stains
Or urges like for…
Watermelons and black-eyed peas
Maybe sores on your knees
Too excited by Jimmie James
Bus pass exposed, little snotty nose
Shout, loud talk, pastel favorites, that fit
What the hell…
Is it, English Lit.?

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