Where The Bicycles Lay All Sleepy

I can start out a new:
I can stare far out the windows of a beating class
As the rain comes,
As you have stepped up and pushed back your chair
And taken off:
Then the school is darkened and quiet and doesn’t
Use any lights,
And the easements are no longer giddied but filled up
To the brim with mallards either fornicating
Or being fed upon by the horn backed alligators;
And maybe I slept under some bus that day you were
Kissing him,
And he was telling you the better words of mute children
Or blinded carpenters,
The sun just a spear gutting the side of that
Courtyard
Where the bicycles lay all sleepy and naked and the world
Swelled all together and bloomed as if there was
An orchestra playing in time to your physical education.

by Robert Rorabeck

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