Barefoot on Thin Ice
Visions of Kelvyn Park
The toilet paper in the boys' room
Was hanging on a 1" metal chain this morning
But somebody stole it.
There is a white teacher in the hall
Who can't look a student in the eye
And will not be here next week.
All of the police
Are white too
Wearing flak jackets
And eating stale donuts in the cafeteria.
The bell rings
And everybody jumps
As if it were a
Pinprick in the ass.
My students find their c hairs in a circle
And understand that I am
Crazier then they are.
Society is locked out of the room
And they have to face
And each other.
They can't handle the silence.
I adore it
Because art is made of tension.
Release comes when
You get paid.
A boy tells me about the time
He was shot in the ass
And a girl explains how she was molested.
There was a secret corner
In every student's heart
But there are no secrets anymore.
I can't keep a secret myself
And they know.
So I tell them about
The time I painted the neighbor's cat green
And the time I was caught by the Goodyear blimp
And the hook where they hung Macchiavelli
And the infield fly rule.
I speak of gentle men