Ms. Exhausted

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The fluorescent lights’ glare
has given her the same merciless headache
that occurs every day.
“Shh!” Her cautionary notice
reiterated immeasurably.

She turns to gather her papers
and in that second,
pencils, pens, books, and binders
have all jumped into their respective pouches,
itching to go home.

A chorus of zippers
can be heard about the building.
iPods leap out of pockets,
anxiously awaiting listening ears.

Although she will remain
long after they all depart,
she glances longingly at the clock,
eager for her classroom
to be empty.





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