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Ryan Gonzalez Jan 2015
In class I hear kids
whispers here and there
sounds like rustling pages

the teacher drones
in a nasally nature
like a fly’s beating wings
two students listen
while most sleep

I imagine running away
finding an island
living on my own
with nothing around
but a coconut tree

And at the edge of my eye
through the window
transparent like a portal
I see a train floating in the sky

— The End —