SandScript 2020

They arrived on time, books in order, clean shirts
none of them smelled of cigarettes or mota.
They reeked of toothpaste and fabric softener,
and dark eyeliner won the face paint tournament.
Some shared what they produced.
Is this them? Or what they practice thinking?
We all wanted to hear,
and what does a 50 year old
teacher want to hear?
What could surprise me?
Rolling Bob Marley-size joints in the car?
A boy kissing a boy with spring tenderness?
A lonely uncle sleeping
without his pants on the couch?
The pet mutt carrying
off the familia’s roasted chicken?
POETRY
One student wrote about being a goth
for two months, their longest
commitment to anything.
Another described her tired
grandmother’s efforts to contain her. The padre
coming over for empanadas and
faith sessions.
When I retired part of me asked,
who could abandon such beautiful days?
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