Thursday, June 09, 2005
The Double Truth
Hot. Shitty High School is hot. Sweltering hot. Hot when you wake up hot. Three showers a day hot. Stick to your desk hot. Mr. Babylon teaching with the lights off hot. Hot. Kids falling asleep during their final exams hot. Mr. Babylon skipping the coffee and deigning to bend over and slurp out of that spit-encrusted water-fountain hot. Hot. Every kid in class waving a folder or half a Styrofoam lunch tray in their face to cool down hot. Mr. Babylon waving a folder too hot. Step on gum and scrape it off with a paperclip hot. Hot. Latin Kings stripping down to their wife-beaters hot. Domincanas with their shoes off hot. Mr. Babylon teaching with the doors open so a steady stream of nameless hall-roaming punks strolls through disrupting class and talking smack hot. Throw a trashcan through the window of Sal’s Famous hot. Hot.
Hot. Shitty High School is hot. Sweltering hot. Hot when you wake up hot. Three showers a day hot. Stick to your desk hot. Mr. Babylon teaching with the lights off hot. Hot. Kids falling asleep during their final exams hot. Mr. Babylon skipping the coffee and deigning to bend over and slurp out of that spit-encrusted water-fountain hot. Hot. Every kid in class waving a folder or half a Styrofoam lunch tray in their face to cool down hot. Mr. Babylon waving a folder too hot. Step on gum and scrape it off with a paperclip hot. Hot. Latin Kings stripping down to their wife-beaters hot. Domincanas with their shoes off hot. Mr. Babylon teaching with the doors open so a steady stream of nameless hall-roaming punks strolls through disrupting class and talking smack hot. Throw a trashcan through the window of Sal’s Famous hot. Hot.
