William Michaelian

Poems, Notes, and Drawings

Slow Dance

And what of school? I remember our sturdy little desks in rows, bright, flat crayons, and how their taste resembled their smell, jars of glue, the heavy-paper mess, girls with long straight hair and curls, their fragrant dress, the playground, races, marble games and spinning tops, climbing bars and tractor tires stood up in the ground. And, not far off, in a cloud of dragonflies and dust, a country graveyard with a twisted cypress by the road, waiting for the bus, waiting for us, waiting for Van Gogh.

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Categories: Everything and Nothing, New Poems & Pieces

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