-here, there and home again-

old Miss Sykes had a ridiculously full set of teeth
and although they clacked when the uppers met the lowers,

at the time, I assumed they were real.
my butter-up compliments to her on their size
were taken in a way they were not intended.

but I wasn't the only trouble-maker

to be nabbed in the act of incorrigibility.

I sat waiting my turn on the long bench where

I wasn't allowed to speak.
I was guilty and out of excuses.

the old lady behind the chest-high gate,
the intriguing gate of heavy, lacquered wood
with the tactile spring-action
where no spring could ever be detected,
stared me down with her standard facial accusation of shame.

but the young one near the bloated cabinet of inactive files
flashed a smile which caught me off guard.
I always looked upon the office typists as tapping-out
psalms of the dead to the parents of incorrigibles:

          "we regret to inform you that William
          will be detained for the rest of his natural life".

I longed for another smile from my new-found love,
but she carelessly carried-on with her typing duties
as if nothing had transpired between us.

hers, was a closed-mouth smile, ascending half-a-cheek,
coming to rest just beyond the hint of smirking.
I'll meet her after school out back near the dumpster
and she'll drive us to "Mee Sum" Chinese Restaurant
for chow mein sandwiches and icy orangeade.

but after an hour's standing-room-only detention
and half-an-hour wandering the tarmac
in the lonesome territory of the dumpster,
I walked home through the tall, lancing meadow
behind the billboards after taking a shortcut through the cemetery.