What I Saw While Proctoring the High School Dance
First the moon
yellowed by brown air,
lurked in the crotch of the tree.
It lurched upwards
drawing a scar
across the night.
Fog came in,
thickened the air
like cornstarch.
Then I saw two men
two years out of high school
waiting for the guy with the keys
to open the gym
for midnight hoops.
One had a goatee,
nose stud, tattoo
on his left forearm:
"In Memoriam
Nina, Julia."
I asked about it.
His buddy said,
"Don't ask. It's personal.
A tragedy
what happened to his sister,
his niece."
The kid with the tattoo
looked like the moon,
said nothing
when he glared past me.
His tattoo
a scar down his arm
down his mind.
He walked away
when his friend said,
"You know, I want to be a teacher
like you."
by Paul Totah 10/17/97