At the desk where the boy sat, he sees the Chicago River. <br />It raises its hand. <br />It asks if metaphor should burn. <br />He says fire is the basis for all forms of the mouth. <br />He asks, why did you fill the boy with your going? <br />I didn't know a boy had been added to me, the river says. <br />Would you have given him back if you knew? <br />I think so, the river says, I have so many boys in me, <br /> I'm worn out stroking eyes looking up at the day. <br />Have you written a poem for us? he asks the river, <br /> and the river reads its poem, <br /> and the other students tell the river <br /> it sounds like a poem the boy would have written, <br /> that they smell the boy's cigarettes <br />in the poem, they feel his teeth <br />biting the page. <br />And the river asks, did this boy dream of horses? <br /> because I suddenly dream of horses, I suddenly dream. <br />They're in a circle and the river says, I've never understood <br /> round things, why would leaving come back <br /> to itself? <br />And a girl makes a kiss with her mouth and leans it <br /> against the river, and the kiss flows away <br /> but the river wants it back, the river makes sounds <br /> to go after the kiss. <br />And they all make sounds for the river to carry to the boy. <br />And the river promises to never surrender the boy's shape <br /> to the ocean.<br /><br />Bob Hicok<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/in-michael-robins-s-class-minus-one-2/
