inversion

my feet are really cold

it didn't look like it

would be a dreary

day. and then,

of a sudden, it was drafty

and raining on my

unprotected head,

in my worn thin red

sweater just my

brassiere underneath

and skin. and toes cold

peeking through holes in

sky grey shiny flats,

droplets of water on top

of each. the hard cement

floor of the classroom

unwarming and lecture

dragging on and spinning

like the orbitals we're

discussing and imperfect

circles. tycho brahe.

staring at the upper right

corner of the white room,

silenced in my head with

a small disappointment,

and not as excited about

los angeles as i want to be.

i think about a griffith

observatory field trip and

it's location. grass and orbs.

glass orbs. the poetry book

atop the science book.

and look, a spider clinging

to the wall, newton

eyeing him himself.

and wealth. the triangle

points, los angeles, san

francisco and myself.

and all other triangles to

be submerged and emerged.

what happens to a dream

deferred?