dylanpackard

A young man wanders the school’s halls.

His keys swinging, his lungs breathing,

How could life feel so easy?

Girls of 9-12 eye him like prey

and it seems as if they’re starving.

His ego goes up.

And you know what else.

The students observe.

The teachers’ nerves pumping with craze

He probably gets straight A’s.

The janitors can’t clean him;

he sweats bleach and lemon-scented spray.

A whole cafeteria talking sees his mouth open slowly

to hear what he has to say.

“I am the coolest kid in school! So therefore, I rule!”

as he towers on top of the center table in the room

His world is a wedding where society is the bride.

And he is the groom.