My first day, my first class in this silk city and I am throwing terms of literature for ears and hearts to catch
And I'm wondering if they play this kind of ball, wondering if today they brought their gloves
And then I'm listening not to my voice, nor theirs, for voices carry through these vents and thinnest walls
Minutes pass as seconds and the clock ticks above and behind them so I'm turning lecture now on them And they are silent, very silent, writing away their likes, dislikes, and contemplations on movies, TV, or song
reaching in the pockets of their minds where winter coats are hung, remembering another season
but these walls, these thin, thin walls are dancing noise around me and I'm wondering if they can write at all
