Observations of Humanities
My zipper clinks on the cold aluminum bench.
I hate when it does that-
the sound of two metals clashing frolics down the hallway, disturbing the peace.
I slide into a sitting position, fitting
like it’s a puzzle.
In the pseudo-silence, a chorus of buzzing light and
tip-tap-typing
breathe to life, interrupted by the whirs of sliding doors.
I hate when it does that-
The announcement of entry, crashing like a cymbal in a solo.
Enter centerstage, a gaggle of gossip,
dancing back and forth to different mouths,
“I hate when it does that-”
The crescendo of careless conversation carries itself in echoes
careening heads away from books and screens.
Hearty laughter escapes their bubble with a pop-
I hate when they do that;
Distract my ears from the whispers of my book.
Hush, hush!
I cannot hear the inky secrets opened before me.
Yet another interruption approaches;
the jingle-jangle of scholastic keychains and rustling of backpacks,
Preceding the reluctant clop of my unread chapter.