"Sometimes," he admits,
"I tend to drive a bit fast;
the music gets me."

He has handwriting
just like that of a girl, and
always walks in late.

He's in my small group;
occasionally smiles as
we talk MLK.

And when he leaves class,
he ceases to know my name,
or spare me a smile.

I understand him,
and he understands right back...
goodbyes left unsaid.

03/10/2003

Author's Note: I wanted to write a full on, free verse poem about this boy in my English class, Therron Bailey, but I couldn't manage it. I wasn't sure what to say. So I made these haiku very fragmented. But he... he's just been this figure of intrigue for me for the past few months. I'm not sure what it is that interests me about him... it's just there. He sits in front of me and we talk about music and MLK and driving sometimes. Then we leave and it's as if it never happened. My apologies to Simeon who thinks this site has gone nuts with the haiku. *wink*

Posted on 03/10/2003
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