Highschool Oppression

I disappear

into a world of words

to escape the ones

I hear, trap’d in this car.

Iris molecules

on passenger window,

periwinkle dots resemble me.

So I think,

if I were a puddle,

could ruin your shoes,

gather every drop,


your truck-

take the jaws of life

to pluck out cotton

from the spiny shell.

If not, then I would

snorkel to Pluto

far from asphalt words

without winds

where tulips and lilies

bend too much

from shore,

to breathe space

in wait

for the return.

Instead, I open the car door.

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