i blink the dry
air conditioning from my eyes
pretend the cheap
white table under my elbows
is a waxed surfboard
these fluorescent lights
the warm and burning sun
this popcorn ceiling
littered with wandering cello-tape
is the blue sky
that i can see through the window
naked, no clouds
the whirring of the printer
and these vexing voices
could be the waves
rolling into foam
my board grinding against the water
my feet touching the coral heads
i am stuck in a daydream
about the sea
when in the classroom