Fred Aiken Writing

the pythagorean theorem comes up during class,
but i’m not interested,
i’m not paying attention,
falling asleep,
i’m thinkng about aerosol cans lighting the night neon,
while pressing down on the can’s button,
forming blotches,
forming lines,
curvature, form, figures that dance, that weep, that laugh, and possibly cry,
i think i’m failing most of my classes,
i might even be failing at life,
but the night looks much different,
hanging upside down,
from an overpass billboard,
with the mission to paint the night gold