Nadav had rough skin
when he touched
it was like sandpaper
rubbing flesh

girls have a habit
of boring me
to tears
he said

I looked
at Miss Ashdown's
broad behind
as she walked down

the aisle between desks
in class
her skirt swayed
like old ship's sails

all they talk of
is dolls and prams
and doll's clothes
and about whom

they'll marry
one day
I wondered
if Miss Ashdown's hips

wore away the wood
at the side
of the desks
as she walked

between them
I prefer boy's talk
of guns and battles
and wars and such

he said
I watched
as Miss Ashdown
turned and faced

the front of the class
her big bust
like battleship guns
do you like girl's talk?

Nadav asked
I like their gentleness
and softness
and smell of flowers

I said
but talk?
he said
what of that?

the knack
I said
is to listen
only to the last

few words of speech
to get the drift
of talk
Miss Ashdown

glared at Nadav
and threw
skill fully
chunks of chalk.