the kids line up into formation like a long math problem laid on its side.
the holy gymnasium's swamped with the poems of workbook slaves at the old wooden traps
with the black hole ink wells, hearts all sunk.
where is the pill that they give to the astronaut in case
he's marooned in a fifth grade classroom, crammed in the blank page
with biker shorts and nike airs like in a catholic mass
where you sit, stand, sit, shift your weight and shrug.
loiter in a church and the statues will make you to leave.
you yawn like you live off the grid in the house on the hill,
nucleus of a freshman novel or a forty year yo-yo nodding off on the train.
your family's all quitters except for your father,
spine of a floor model, honest and decent.
modern wife bore had a mother who beat her with a broomstick, complexion, behavior obedience.
you're looking forward to the de ja vu twicelight.
scientists concur that the precise measurement of any standard moment is forty-five minutes.
the hypnotist's liver is swelled with the wishes of college kids stuck on a choice of career.
they feed it a magazine, twenty-first century gypsy's equipped with a trap door stomach.
have to keep reminding self, it's all gray area,
not a stitch of daylight for the lifer librarian,
marry one that cooks well, sleep in on the weekends,
self discovery hurts like a witch hunt.
enter chuck and flav for the ride out.
