Litkicks Message Board Archive

Lecture Hall

Posted to Poetry

Sitting in class, scuffling my feet and
Writing obscenities on the back of the chair in front of me.
Some of those “fucks” and “shits” have been there forever—the seventies.
Nice little bit of nostalgia to remind me that life sucked
Back then
As it does now.
Hard to believe.
The teacher asks a question and the same familiar hands shoot up.
God, those kids annoy the hell out of me.
Stare down at the textbook
(list price U.S. $49.95, university bookstore sells for $55)
Scratch my initials in its binding to match the ones I carved on the desk.
Drifting mind,
Just thinking about the next time I can get high and forget everything I’ve learned. Snowing outside again, this crazy Ohio weather.
The snowflakes burn my retinas,
Wish there was no sky at all,
Just a vast expanse of nothing,
Waiting to consume the population of this wretched state.
(maybe I’m just going out of my mind?)
One kid,
Messy hair,
Crooked glasses,
Same worn Cleveland Browns coat, caked over mudslide
Always speaks his mind—nobody else gives a damn.
Talks with bad grammar.
Just want him to be sewn up shut, squirming, dying to let the stink out and poison us all. Just wanna get high and pretend
He was
His mother would’ve done good with the steel hook.
Even she was a disappointment.
Back in the seventies,
She sat in class, scuffling her feet,
Writing “fuck” and “shit” on the back of the chair in front of her.