She is gross.
Her cubby next to mine,
her poop-brown pigtails smell like a cat's butt.
As we enter the cafeteria, I swear
she farted, Mrs. Johnson, it wasn't me.
A dead fish sandwich from a princess lunch box
make me gag as her lips surround a wonder bread coffin.
A lunch recess and the thought of her
help me vomit the color of her dress.
her hideous laugh makes me cringe
as the sound comes out of perfect pearls.
Four-squares become one when she gallops by,
Playing "Ponies" on playground pavement and grassy hills.
Her name haunts me just thinking of it.
Rosanne Vavrosky, ugly and stupid..
A button nose on her face,
running like her "Alice in Wonderland" shoes.
wiping the snot from her nose, I must confess
I love the button nose on her pretty face...
But,
She is gross.
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3 comments:
This is amazing. You've really got a gift, brother.
This is so creative, I love it!
Having said that, I love this poem! The "four squares becoming one" reminds me of recess time at Bear Creek Elementary many years ago. We little button-noses spent all our time saying that boys were stupid, but I for one was really hoping one or two of them thought I was cute!
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