Bloomington High School South, The Gothic, 1983, Page 77

Description:	*A saucepanor an ant?Ken WieslerWhen your head is on the sidewalk, you see manydifferent sights,Those of discarded pink bubble gum, silently anddismally decomposing,And cigarette butts, ground half into oblivion, waitingexpectantly for someone to entirely demolish them,And beer cans, remorsefully wishing they could havebeen something else, like a saucepan,And ants.And if youre lying on the street, you see still differentthings,Like a very close view of a tire tread right before yourerun over,Or maybe a shoe or two, or three,Or oil spots and skid marks from long-deceased cars,that had saucepans in their back seats,Or ants.But, if youre running, there are things that you dontsee,Like dying cats, freshly shot, falling out of trees,And your neighbors newest toy, which happens to be arather conspicuous Sherman tank,And the ground where your feet step on inconsequentialthings,Like grass,And sticks,And saucepans,And dead ants.Kendall ReevesMalcolm WebbThe Holy FMeggin CabotThe hated homeroom teacher lookedDown and drawled a name, and pickedA piece of readout up and wavedIt in the air.The boy who was doomed to doctor-domStood and wiped his sweaty handsUpon the corduroy of his jeans;Then he licked his lips and startedThe long journey down the aisle toThe hated homeroom teachers deskWhere the dreaded readout waited.His father was a doctor, as his father before had been,And his father before that one, down and downThe line; every eldest son was blessed withThat honorable profession. Every eldest son bowedTo the irrevocable, whether it suited him, or not.But this eldest son, he — spectacled and heavy browed,Would make his computer sing: not a scalpel,Not a knife, would ever touch his hand. OnlySoftware — micron chips — would make hisHeart go thump.And so as he reached for his computer gradesIt wasnt strange that his hand should trembleOr his glasses slip, and his fingers fumbleTo right them.And as he made his gleeful way backDown the aisle and to his seat,It wasnt a wonder that his face was litAnd that his heart had skipped a joyous beat;Hed failed every course hed taken, allThat were medically related; health and biology,And chemistry too; the humanities, psychology;All in which people — not micron chips — werePrevalent hed received the Holy F. Not the markOf failure, but the mark of fatalism.Creativity 77
Source:	http://cdm17129.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/hs-bloomsouth/id/2019
Collection:	Bloomington High School South

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