Teaching Keeps Me Out of My Head
The children keep me out
Of my own scrambled head.
I feed their inquiries
Like a human birdfeeder
Tossing day old breadcrumbs
To pigeons from a park bench.
Myself mislaid, set aside
I merrily saunter
Through the rows of desks
Thinking only of small eyes
Peering like perched parrots
Waiting for my wisdom.
Today we learn that lunes
Is Monday, martes is
Tuesday, Wednesday is
miercoles, and that I
The teacher talk funny
Spanish. We discover
That Jorge’s brother
Was caught under the fence
By la migra in San Ysidro.
The children laugh and call
Him mojado, or wetback.
This prompts more stories
And further laughter. Tales
Of daring deeds enhanced
By the exagerations of elders
Delight and saddens.The day
Ends , the children leave
And I return to my head.
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