10:28 a.m.
US History teacher
throws scissors at PA system.
They come flying back toward students.
The principal had made
seven announcements in ten minutes.
10:28 p.m.
Glow-in-the-dark bowling
reveals
lint, teeth, shoelaces, bra, cat hair.
I pick at the lint and hair,
trying to get rid of the evidence.
10:35 a.m.
The teacher is done teaching.
We entertain ourselves.
I listen to my friend tell stories to classmates:
“Caitlin was driving, and we hit a car!”
I correct her if she gets something wrong
or forgets a part:
“And she only had her permit.”
This is something only I can do.
10:35 p.m.
My friend embraces the retro mood.
A shirt cut below her shoulders,
tank top straps showing.
A, B, C.
It’s easy as 1, 2, 3.
Her boyfriend goes for the waist.
10:49 a.m.
“If you were a whale, man,
you would love plankton!”
10:49 p.m.
In lane nine,
two girls’ hips bump against each other,
friends before the hips were hips.
I watch. I am newer,
silver, while the other’s gold.
The leftover ice cream melts on the booth.
It, too, glows green.