("1965" By David Salt) |
Where the emulsion
Has cracked and curled,
Has torn or worn away
Lies the truth.
The shy boy face
The half-smile
Is the mask
worn to school that day;
Like the stiff, red shirt;
Protection against
The cold.
The true self dreamed of
Going somewhere friendlier.
Lonely,
Reading ahead in class
Or dreaming
Of red numbers and blue numbers.
He always dreamt in colors
Always--
That was one thing that
Couldn't be cured, or slapped away
With incomprehensible
Adult resentment.
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