Mfddk School Dctwyitfon
ti*3r>
Jean Claud Clones
March
Down the
Lockered Halls
A Stranger enters their midst Without Jeans Without malice but
is
crucified
and burnt alive It's Middle School
Damnation -AnnMoiher
GroMng Wf$t Alone with
ivory, Beethoven and medicated muscle salve spend ten-year old summers on my own. Seventh grade and I learn to keep doors closed, atune myself to 440, know toccatas by heart. Things fall away, like junior high preoccupations with boys, scented lotion and teen magazinesall talking of love. I know these things, because even with panes shut tight and the perfect pitch of my father, crowding all, I can still hear as far away as New York City, London maybe, I
am
left to
Toronto, for sure.
Where
did the years go,
doors shut, fingers on the keys? The world
wasn't ready for
me
yet and
all I
could face
was the amalgam of those notes, speaking in ways I could only know. I wondered if anyone
same, heard them speaking
else understood those
Perhaps only
I
soothe me, show
still -
stir
me home. -
songs.
Jennifer Barizo
me,
