Never Ending Class

She spoke, spoke, spoke and continued seeping

Words of god filled the classroom as my almond eyes

Lost themselves on the gray clumpy clouds outside
Oh, how I wish to be out there, sitting on an old mango tree

Strolling on bare branches marked by the bites of time

I would keep it company and greet small pecking birds

Lie on emerald leaves; wrapping myself in the smoked sky

Then draw circles with my cool breath, exhaling A’s & G’s licorice 

But my liquorice daze is lifting, watered mumbles clearing

The warm tropical mist seems be losing its sweetness

A lush fantasy clear cut by a spinning saws of nouns

Screeching on the slate board, ruffling the scripted pages

Unfortunately she is still speaking, speaking, speaking


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