The teacher asked the kids, 'what do you think?'
Then again louder for who couldn't hear.
Tapping the page with a delicate touch,
A student raised his hand, 'Ms., what's that smell?
I think Billy made a mess, I can taste
it.' 'Its the lawn crew laying new mulch, see?'
She asked again about the painted sea,
Another student raised her hand, 'i think
it's pretty. It's so real like I can taste
the salt. And the crashing waves you can hear
them.' The young girl raised her nose up to smell
deeply, then shuddered wrinkling her face, touch-
ing her nose. The class laughed. The teacher touched
the boat, a blurry man aboard at sea,
struggling alone in the darkness, the smells
mixed with experience, fear what we think
navigating life, miles away and here
simultaneously. Personal taste
in home decorating, her outfits, taste
in aesthetics, her classrooms a nice touch
to vacation away in the mind. Here
the children all day are all that she sees,
and this picture has always made her think.
Another whiff, 'i really like that smell.'
The kids gag, 'its gross! It's an awful smell!
Can you light a freshener? Get the taste
out of my mouth!' she smiled, 'but just you think,
the plants will drink the nutrients and touch
up the place real nice, and some trees you'll see
will grow huge delicious fruit, and you'll hear
all the birds making homes, and while we're here
we'll appreciate the gifts of life. Smell
the air one more time, to see what I see,
and just see if you can't hold an orange, taste
the fresh juice of a well fed tree.' She touched
her own nose and smiled, 'now what do you think?'
She closed the book with a light touch and smelled
the pages, hearing a murmur, the taste
of manure, 'See you tomorrow! I think...'
Then again louder for who couldn't hear.
Tapping the page with a delicate touch,
A student raised his hand, 'Ms., what's that smell?
I think Billy made a mess, I can taste
it.' 'Its the lawn crew laying new mulch, see?'
She asked again about the painted sea,
Another student raised her hand, 'i think
it's pretty. It's so real like I can taste
the salt. And the crashing waves you can hear
them.' The young girl raised her nose up to smell
deeply, then shuddered wrinkling her face, touch-
ing her nose. The class laughed. The teacher touched
the boat, a blurry man aboard at sea,
struggling alone in the darkness, the smells
mixed with experience, fear what we think
navigating life, miles away and here
simultaneously. Personal taste
in home decorating, her outfits, taste
in aesthetics, her classrooms a nice touch
to vacation away in the mind. Here
the children all day are all that she sees,
and this picture has always made her think.
Another whiff, 'i really like that smell.'
The kids gag, 'its gross! It's an awful smell!
Can you light a freshener? Get the taste
out of my mouth!' she smiled, 'but just you think,
the plants will drink the nutrients and touch
up the place real nice, and some trees you'll see
will grow huge delicious fruit, and you'll hear
all the birds making homes, and while we're here
we'll appreciate the gifts of life. Smell
the air one more time, to see what I see,
and just see if you can't hold an orange, taste
the fresh juice of a well fed tree.' She touched
her own nose and smiled, 'now what do you think?'
She closed the book with a light touch and smelled
the pages, hearing a murmur, the taste
of manure, 'See you tomorrow! I think...'
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches


