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Jan 2011
Its morning
and I ride the bus to school with you.
We stare through the graffiti scratched grooves in the window
the sun hums hymns over everything
but we notice the shadows
what is invisible to them

Most days we don't listen
teachers preaching system
but we don't find that interesting.
We nod to their speech
but really its the beat we tap with our pencil and rubber
swinging on chairs as we try to find balance

There is no need to talk **** in the playground
we're schools ahead of them;
girls not eating in front of boys
frontin' like they don't like girls
just irritates us.
We could hide in the toilets
but we want them to see
us cuss them with our book and pen
how we be marking paper

Some days we don't go school
we call Kevin, he takes us to P's
and we watch them.
At first they make words make love
then they make words hate us
they cuss destroy trust
punch chest they get vex

Then I will lean forward,
skip along the vinyl,
jump onto the needle,
fly over the speaker
riding the bass onto your shoulder.
You will strain to hear
as l whisper
*put your headphones back on
2010 Transformation of Bill Collins 'Portrait of a reader...'
Written by
5tar
1.8k
 
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