We were empty-eyed cinderblocks,
ringed keys unlocking the doorknobs.
Among junior high’s sleepy congregation,
an audience of our class’s generation,
only some of us showed up praised and amen-ed.
School taught me typing for college essays
and gave me chances to run away.
We’d flood from the school at 3:05—
but only some return now for mid-life toasts.
Just listen up for the morning announcement:
we cannot know life while it lives so close.
.
