The Solution

She

comes

rushing in

late with Oh

my freakin’ God,

an emergency and

no, she can’t explain it

but it was a major emergency.

so now the question is how late and

she says, Like one minute mister, but

it’s been ten and everyone else is already

working, except her, hands on hips doorway

pouting, arms all binders, books and purses. I tell

her, Look at the clock for yourself. She does and it’s

showing two minutes late but I tell her the clock’s off by

four minutes so she super-sighs and stomps to her desk, sits

down with the most noise possible: chair-scrape desk-squeal and

binder-clicking madness, then stares at the clock. At me, then the clock

again, counting minutes with her lips and fingers says, Mister, but which way

is the clock  wrong, is it four minutes fast or four minutes slow because…and I say

Both.

 

Reviews

[chris' girlfriend]

WOW!!! its so awesome it way the poem is put together.