Dark news arrives on the announcements, and narcoleptic 
bodies strewn everywhere vaguely stir at the chilling 
news before they retreat to the fog of the smoker's 
stairs. They play it safe while the cameras are spinning; 
the next day security goes straight to work, 
injudiciously jamming their hands into the marsupial 
pocket of my hooded shirt. I sharpened my tears to prick 
their precious smiles while a shadow of fear still hangs 
across their eyes. Reduced to this, and what do you know? 
Heart keeps ticking and it's ready to blow. 3, 2, 1, 
building up inside: bomb threat at Montgomery High. Days 
pass and it gets so scary. The perpetrators sitting in 
their same seats, still, while Billie and her mom move 
back to Salisbury and Helen gets a spot at Harvey Milk. 
But I take solace in imagining you walking your blunt 
brown bangs bouncing as I look through the taped-up 
English class window. They're talking about writing about 
films about books. Chorus.