National Poetry Month, Day 13

every spring the incoming sophomores
would take a field trip to the high school
to tour their future gossip grounds.
I want to say we got out early that day,
but maybe we didn’t. I was at rehearsals
so I wasn’t actually there to see this
but these guys I know had a catapults,
water balloons, and walkie talkies.
I understand they set up near the track.
A scout lurked in the courtyard above,
waiting for our vice principal to lead
the new kids into the shooting gallery.
The scout signaled, the balloon team fired,
and the vice principal took the first shot
directly in the chest. Though I wasn’t there,
I can slip between subjective perspectives
like bullet time in an action movie
you may have seen in the last ten years,
but the viewpoint I usually take
is the freshmen, because really I think
they had the best story to tell.

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