All the thick kids

people walking on street near building

Photo by Paweu0142 L. on Pexels.com

For Rob

 

In maths class

all the thick kids drifted into sky,

I was too busy working out the Algebra of starlings,

one day in May I cracked the code that all of them were pulled

each weaved trajectory was a huge nest from the Tigris to Jatinder’s house.

 

In other sums

my Dad never worked me out right

he said Drama was Dandy with his Factory swagger.

One day fate subtracted his Father and he wept dry like men do,

each yanked breath sounded like a child inside a man going grey like highway snow.

 

In Rob’s house

I was myself in a chrysalis of music.

He made new equations of music remixed into dreams.

One day he became a Dad, and a Dad, and a rock star of Cov song,

he worked out all the clever kids were jailed in status symbols and faux achievement.

 

Hey, all the thick kids

I’m raising hell and a glass to your nectar,

Claire and Shelley in Maths class who drew in the sunlight,

Neil and his crush teacher whose blouse missed a second button,

all of us were smart enough to know we were wagging it in plain sight yawning in class.

 

Hey, all the thick kids

all your kids look warm and loved and happy.

Claire and Shelley in Maths class who draw out the sunlight.

Neil in Nuneaton market selling massive houses to small minds

all of us were smart enough to move into our minds and leave the shithole of riches.

One Response to “All the thick kids”

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