Ichi-A

ichi-A

"let's play simon says" he says while
standing on a desk stamping his
feet grinning

at me down the hall upstairs the sounds
are more articulate better formed
not what you hear

every day the bulletin boards pull
off from the wall and thumb tacks
go flying and snakes creep through
the halls looking for un-sandaled

feet my boss is an old man who climbed
too many mountains and speaks
in words so ancient they nod and
smile back the smell of dirty haired

boys pounding out notes verses anything
they can own and the silence where a
bell should be to claim order that's
already there.