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  • Three days gray and poorly tuning out storm clouds
    For half of a half of a second
    I almost enjoyed the weather knowing it always changes.
    As soon as I noticed,
    I lost it.
    As always.
    This time of year reminds me of fresh pencil boxes
    Setting intention inevitably broken
    Approximately the moment
    Intention becomes putting your own nose in the corner;
    Wearing the dunce cap,
    So to speak.
    So to speak of dunce caps and corners,
    When will we learn to stop doing things proven ineffective
    For a mere twelve generations ago?
    Someone wrote of this in biblical times
    Yet here we are again
    Fools in love
    Or love thy neighbor, for Christ's sake.
    Or whatever.
    Drawing lead graffiti on the the school desk
    Not looking at the clock
    Looking at the clock every three longest minutes of your life
    Wishing to positively BURST out of skin
    And out the door
    And around the corner
    And climb the tree outside the window taunting.
    Those days I sat up straight and paid attention
    Those days I played sick to stay in bed with you
    Those days I was reciting well rehearsed motions
    Those days I actually
    Against all odds
    Learned something
    And saw the drop of knowledge disappear into an ocean of unknown.
    Sometimes I almost enjoy the weather
    Knowing it always changes.
    But for those three days gray
    It seems as though it will be gray forever.
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