THE DAY GEOMETRY FUCKED ME
by C. Allen Rearick
(April 27th,, 2004)
I never knew I'd use obtuse
angles again, nor did my
ninth period geometry teacher's
grotesque eyes mention I'd

need theorems and proofs in
a twenty dollar debate against
false cocaine promises and an
air-hockey table turned traitor.

My white-washed heart has been
awake for hours; stock-car pacing
past twiddling thumbs and crooked
smiles. But it's alright 'cause in

two hours the eight a.m. morning
sun will dye this grey smoke lined
basement a fire orange; melting my
vampire skin and leaving my eyes

a 1969 burning river.  And I know
Wayne Gretzky is somewhere
laughing with all his trophies over
the fact that I can't explain

icing or score four come from
behind goals to beat this friday night

addiction.
                        

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