paper rustles people talking bright blues and grey jackets shirt
tables squeak pens click pencils scrape people breathe in and
out glancing sipping with hair that’s jelled and sticky or that’s
poofy and unkempt the picking teeth the yawn and sigh
the temple rub the eye rub the crotch rub others stretch and
move and clench and wince hands moving in and out of
pockets (the drone of thoughts that call for stillness) words
pop out and dance some underline and shout others circle
and stand italics lean a bit closer to whisper to each other or
give long looks some seek to sleep others just shift from
right to left some read down and up others still keep
clicking their pens while light weighs heavy on the right side
and the shadows sit in the chair on the left some pick noses
others ears others twirl and untangle hair hands shift and
blood fills the pressed skin near the cheek bones chairs keep
squeaking and feet clap their sandles people blink
yet the wall might be
where we should be
looking—it’s so white
and strong and almost
like we can feel through it. it
could be better for us
to just to stare at it to see the white and
and the little indents
and scratches to follow it up to see how far it
goes before it conn-
ects to the ceiling and to follow it down to notice w-
here it meets the
floor—to lay our hands upon the smooth and cold to notice
our warm. and
I’m inclined to think, with the light now pressing in on our left,
if we squished
our nose against, our chest against, our hands against so much
that we felt
our breath heavy and hot even damp and spreading quick from our
mouth and
eyelashes brushing too our ears might begin to hear the scratching and we
might
begin scratching and seeing through it all. the white wall.
tables squeak pens click pencils scrape people breathe in and
out glancing sipping with hair that’s jelled and sticky or that’s
poofy and unkempt the picking teeth the yawn and sigh
the temple rub the eye rub the crotch rub others stretch and
move and clench and wince hands moving in and out of
pockets (the drone of thoughts that call for stillness) words
pop out and dance some underline and shout others circle
and stand italics lean a bit closer to whisper to each other or
give long looks some seek to sleep others just shift from
right to left some read down and up others still keep
clicking their pens while light weighs heavy on the right side
and the shadows sit in the chair on the left some pick noses
others ears others twirl and untangle hair hands shift and
blood fills the pressed skin near the cheek bones chairs keep
squeaking and feet clap their sandles people blink
and blink and blink and blink and blink
and blink and blink hair rubs against chairs
fingers type slowly and quickly the hand on the clock moves with the skips of seconds and
a man scratches his chin and leans and another one coughs peoples knees knock
the desks and the light continues to press on the right and flicker above off the wall
all ears read and filter out various echoes and scratches and clicks eyes tune out the
scene and deafen their blinking
and blink and blink hair rubs against chairs
fingers type slowly and quickly the hand on the clock moves with the skips of seconds and
a man scratches his chin and leans and another one coughs peoples knees knock
the desks and the light continues to press on the right and flicker above off the wall
all ears read and filter out various echoes and scratches and clicks eyes tune out the
scene and deafen their blinking
yet the wall might be
where we should be
looking—it’s so white
and strong and almost
like we can feel through it. it
could be better for us
to just to stare at it to see the white and
and the little indents
and scratches to follow it up to see how far it
goes before it conn-
ects to the ceiling and to follow it down to notice w-
here it meets the
floor—to lay our hands upon the smooth and cold to notice
our warm. and
I’m inclined to think, with the light now pressing in on our left,
if we squished
our nose against, our chest against, our hands against so much
that we felt
our breath heavy and hot even damp and spreading quick from our
mouth and
eyelashes brushing too our ears might begin to hear the scratching and we
might
begin scratching and seeing through it all. the white wall.
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