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Improv 1, Week 10

Three, Becoming Spring

On the urban grid of three PM she is
off it—the bus just huffing from the curb, she
lifts her backpack over her head, then brings it
down dead weight, full speed to the ground. By its straps
she heaves it up and down again. What’s in it
she wants to kill? What’s in you that wants her to
kill it? To KO the Collected Shakespeare,
the Xmas knitting, the kittens, the bloody
fetus? You want to help, help make it stop, help
make it go. But in the ritual movement
of three PM she is an errant woodwind
outside the score. Where did it go, the good you
believed was inside everything? She’s thrown it
down. She won’t carry your faith on her back.

------------------------

Every period at :45 he begs for initials in his agenda—
he claims to require the restroom, though what he needs
is cranberry juice and a check-up. What is it that he pisses out,
shits, throws up, or splooges? What’s in me
that wants to find out? I want to save every student
from anything that might do them harm.
You have to save every student, make the attempt,
it’s your fault if they don’t learn, differentiate,
when all else fails, else being 3/4ths of the class.
Where did you go wrong? Mid planning of lesson?
First days of school when you forgot to set rules or
maybe it’s the seating chart. You’re asking for trouble
sitting those two beside each other. Trouble, grace me
with your presence, create an unstoppable tag team of these two.

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