first day doodles
my pencil sound
swirling, scratch.
a circle, a squiggle,
square within a square,
memory rolls a captured time,
life's doodles all around.
newly sandpapered desks
eraser smoke drifting
through beams of sunlight,
the same ones, it seems,
that fell slanted
last year.
the loudspeaker hanging
above teacher's head
through electric crackles
yields a timid voice reading
from a book of devotions,
then a prayer to start the day.
the class clown makes noise
clearing a throat already clear.
in hope against hope
that she would turn
rolling her eyes at him.
he doesn't care.
at least she knows he is there.
another blushes
when she looks at him
and he is looking back.
the summer having changed
each a little more.
he wonders at the beauty
he didn't see before
she wonders about her hair.
by the door
a boy twists a pencil
and wishes he were back
at his old school.
with familiar friends
there lunch wouldn't be alone.
at that moment
someone, one desk over,
grins, loudly whispers a name,
extends a hand.
"the brain" has all her
learning tools laid neatly out.
front row, middle desk
waiting, crossed ankles
expectant student eyes
another year of straight a's
her sure reward.
brought quickly back
by staccato chalk sounds
on blackboard,
it begins again.
as teacher
doodles her name.
by annie 
9/30/98