We drift in, caught
Little stars glimmer education
Meant to illuminate
Classroom, office, stage
Meant to foster
Warmth, the blanket of
Greek innovation which coddles
Both young man and toddler
And I can see, young eyes which
Remain undimmed, untouched
Striving Olympian skies
Pierced by imagination, highest depths
Beyond fathom

Crack, bolts from Zeus’ dance
Across feeble, child-like plans
Mrs. Brown’s diction screams like
A careening zeppelin
And demeanor provokes only
My abashed embarrassment
She just told me
My coloring … lacks presence
That reality precludes the artistic
That fanciful is hardly practical
That unicorns have horns
That cows are not golden
That pink is a color for girls

And as my dashed tears
Stain inspired pages
I can see,
Eyes blurred by the very
Structure which stifles
The very hand which feeds me
Is biting
And more than anything
I can feel me slipping away
I can hear “success” calling
I can see my mother at the conference
Mourning
Her son, delinquent

But apologies, worldy flame
Has touched me
Ignited fleshy palms
Passionate, worshipping
In the very act of creating
Pursue playtime
Take double-long lunches
Make faces, characters, friendships
Slip back, regress past kindergarten
Education may never recognize
But will never deprive
Me: Of my perception
Or my coloring time