Reading while waiting the world turns the page

The boy, who is 17, is dragging

a rolling backpack and wearing a red beanie

which covers his sensitive ears that purposefully cusp

thick rectangle glasses held by a strap around the back.

It is Friday, before the Winter break at the local highschool.

I was told the school brought snow to the quad-

and it is sunny, 70 degrees and the ocean is silver on the skyline.

It must not be real snow.

The boy, who is not soon to be a man,

wears running pants, is pigeon toed and shuffles on the sidewalk

sideways as fast as he can drag his backpack and hunched frame along.

He is covered in puffy white foam,

his arms, his butt, his back, like he just jumped out

of the bath, but is trying to get out of himself.

Marching off beat, planting crowded feet down the sidewalk, stomping

I hear-faintly-people scream, Zachary, Zachary, come back here! Zack-get back-

She is late, she is late she's LATE! is all he says

Over and over he chants while rocking himself righteous.

The uniformed school guard is now on his walkie, beeping, Over,

while he smiles wide at him, offering him a treat, but he does not bite

into candy from strangers.

Others come running and reprimanding,

fingers drawn, arms cocked.

She's late, she's late, she's never supposed to be this late!

He flings his words at them,

soaps flies like spit.

He is cursing at her in his way.

But how could she know that there was no snow

They lied, he’ll say.

which is why he was early today

but she was probably going to be late anyway. 

Composed 12/19/15.

Image credit By U.S. Air Force photo/Ken Wright/Released [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

The lessons taut

“Surfing with Jesus”

the sign read

in front of the Pilgrim Church

across from the high school.

Not the Mormon one

across the parking lot

on the other street
with the lemonade stand

and portable orange bibles

towering high.

A teenage boy with earbuds

sits at the bus stop

smoking and snarling

waiting insecurely

to be picked up

or to be saved.

The bell has not yet rung.

Image By Hogyn Lleol at English Wikipedia (Self made by Hogyn Lleol) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

Published in the 2017 Magee Park Poets Anthology.

Finding one self conscious (in a back-pack)

High school can be so cruel,
horrible not to mention
adding a new bright
canary yellow back-pack
cheery to a fault, a tweet assault
and glowing it seems from afar
a beacon, a candle,
or the sun.

She said she wasn't ashamed
before the first day
of sophomore year.
She said she had no fear,
she loved her bright
yellow book bag.

Rich and poor are both so brutish.

I was right,
she said.
They made strange faces
sneered up and down and
around her stylish lemon
fresh attache.
She didn't bend, or bow.
She was stubborn too.
Soon enough, "They all asked
where'd I get it," she smiled
radiantly,
stepping out of the mold
and into her sunny warm self.

Image By Molku (Own work) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.

12 Haiku for the Graduating You

I.

A graduation,

means two hands for beginners

starts all over again.

II.

A walk down the aisle

a cause for trepidation-

unless it's only you.

III.

Cap, gown and tassel

garb for the graduating-

leaving naked.

IV.

Lunchbox and recess

healthy lessons learned in school

useful blocks of time.

V.

The school house was not

your permanent residence

it is half way home.

VI.

Clique's are sticky groups

like fly traps, tarpits, quicksand

loiterers in life.

VII.

High school-That was it?

All that insecurity 

was not about you.

VIII.

Fear and loathing wait

outside the high school iron gate

I'll still protect you.

IX.

Twelve years gone so fast

tying shoes to getting gas

your childhood was such a blast!

X.

Over a decade 

of homework and studying

just the lesson plan?

XI.

The mirror becomes 

your friend again, instead of 

one you pretend not to know.

XII.

A proud mom, I beam

rays of opportunity

basking in your glow.

Image credit:By English Sgt. Ray Lewis [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.