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Going to the corner where the sharpener lives
And makes a crunch for two hands
Rotor music interludes for afternoon tests
The chalk smoke is bad to breathe but I like it
The teachers make habits in red but I run around
Like a rabbit then a tiger then a trackstar

Flatten it out and see what they wrote
I heard you liked someone!
And on the bus the older ones saying Remember that
Now if they don't know you like someone it's embarrassing
All the information could fit on a sheet of onionskin
All the rankings a TRS-80 could crunch in a minute

Between games of Taipei
Between morning bus and music class
The shivery cold by the cubbies and the backbeat of busywork
It's all busywork except for special projects
I am staring out the window to French piano
I have a spaceship world made of bricks

Twenty-four person centipedes move up the ramps
The milk has crystals in it and the bread has peanuts
The ability to burp on command is much esteemed
I can't predict when grown-ups will drift into shouts
I finish my work early and admire the bevel
The lacquer the smooth of my uncarved desk

All the buses are in the bus loading area
All the windows have crank-handles and are oblong
The kickball feels like a hug for the foot
Under the gym class ropes we square dance and hustle
I make a kid-Time magazine with a story on jai alai
It feels like there's something else I'm supposed to do