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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=561620" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Like School Kids Skipping Away To Nothing In Particulare</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=561620" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Cannibals slum as rain streaks the windows<br>Before el arco iris, <br>And I have seen her turning to me like a beautiful<br>Ship made out of the lumber of trees<br>That don’t grow anymore<br>Except for in the rhapsodies of her eyes: <br>There they grow and captivate little school hood boys, <br>As the airplanes dye cast from precious metals allotted <br>From the school boxes of our young truancies<br>Build a tiara for her sainthood; <br>And she yawns as foreplay and shows her teeth, <br>Her incisors imbedded before her smile like the sharp<br>Moon kindling for the wolf; <br>And the firemen come out to greet her and lay down <br>With the dragons after the busy work day is over<br>And the wind is picking up around our little house<br>The same way it does for school buses; <br>And the mariposas dance and sing in her throat as if they<br>Were teenagers somehow enjoying a ballet, <br>And she lets them there, and purrs like a mountain lion<br>As their pulpy tender wings tickle her all the way<br>Down the avenue where her heart pounds again and again<br>Like school kids skipping away to nothing in particular.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Bret+R.+Crabrooke">Bret R. Crabrooke</a></strong></div>