The words
They rake my ears
Mind is leaves
of fiberglass
composition.

Krooch! Shriek!
Styrofoam dry
Little sounds
They smear
My mind.

I go from here to there.
Dead leaves ever
Surround me in my
Mind fresh and clear
Smoke drifts from
A nearby chimney

I'd like to jump
From the wreckage
But my mind
Is the only
Soul.

         --------------  Author's Notes  --------------

This is a poem about math class in the fall when the writing on the chalkboard and the teacher's voice and the shuffling of paper were painfully loud.