1 poem

by M.m. Odom

Grove School

some days I am ferris bueller singing “twist and shout” in the middle of a parade in Chicago,but most days i am me

i count the passing seconds in orange peels digging my gnawed
fingernails into their sunset flesh, dropping them on the linoleum lunchroom floor.
fluorescent hallway lights ricochet off of cratered blue lockers
screaming at me like the excessive highlighting in my copy of the catcher in the rye
(holden caulfield, my dear, sometimes i too am a phony)
in fleeting montages, i am on floor 103 looking down at the windy city but
mostly all i am is anyone.
what i am trying to say is i know that the mitochondria is the powerhouse
of the cell but am i the powerhouse of my own life or
am i imprisoned within the spine of my SAT prep book? even sal khan
who whispers me to sleep every night cannot teach me how to tear
the bleeding bells out of my ears, cannot explain how to unchain
myself from the endless withering pages. as someone once said,
this life moves pretty fast (faster than a flying red ferrari)
but i am not the sausage king, i am only a regular kid
wasted without adventure.