Sunday, October 27, 2013



Some girls have that prescience, combined with mercy.
This one looked over at Geoffrey's horror as he flipped the sheet
-- slumped in despair. Half an hour passed. He ate half a pencil.

Maybe if I kick my desk leg three times he will look over.
Lifting her own paper enough for him to see her own words
-- his complicit smile made her feel she was in a hot-air balloon.

There was joy in watching him furiously write before the bell rang.
Her sheet in the basket, on top of his. No words spoken.
Three days later, as lockers clanged shut, she approached him --

-- How did you do on the final?
He reddened, looking down at his sneakers. I got a B+.
Walking her home, he added, Would've been an A, if you were ugly.

Tonight, as he watched her with their own daughter's homework
he saw the same glint of concern in her eyes. Without the cheating.
And he kicked the table leg three times, as her smile melted him.

-- © Ciprianowords, Inc. 2013 --

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