High School

[heslopian]

High school was a place of either echoing halls
or busy foyers that might eat you alive.
Though I talked in regal tones,
like I belonged at private school
and was a cut above these oiks
(I still don’t know where that came from.
I suspect I was kidnapped at birth.)
I wasn’t smart enough to be a nerd,
talk with educated ease
about science and dragon slayers,
or spill my spittoon
when a cheerleader brushed against me,
but I was still way below the popular kids,
so far down the soles of their shoes
looked like a ceiling covered in ticks.
And that was my problem, you see.
I had no niche, no stage persona.
I was just me, and me equals death,
never mind what Nancy Regan said
(political wives don’t give good advice
for anyone but little girls
who are born to become political wives).
My best friend Bobby, after a while,
made it when he dyed his hair
and developed a bubblegum strut.
He was ‘that gay kid’ who talked about clothes
and all the girls confided in
(they gave me their secrets too,
but whereas with him he was one of their own
I was basically a priest,
so borderline that it hardly mattered).
After school when I’d return
to rehearse plays with my drama group,
and it was evening so the whole place was dark,
except for strip lights which made the hallways
turn a sickly fruit colour,
I’d pass the staircase opposite the front doors,
see each step ascend into a dense black,
then think something stupid before walking on.

Now I’m nineteen and failing college.
If you thought my story had a moral,
that I’d tell you I was rich, successful,
with my own Mercedes and a red hot lover,
well then I’m sorry to disappoint you.

[Ris Yerg]

Hi!
No, you didn't disappoint me!
Interesting.
Enjoyed.
R.Y.

[billy]

High school was a place of either echoing halls
or busy foyers that might eat you alive. is might needed?
Though I talked in regal tones,
like I belonged at private school
and was a cut above these oiks
(I still don’t know where that came from.
I suspect I was kidnapped at birth.) i'd have put the parenthisised couplet on it's own as an aside.
I wasn’t smart enough to be a nerd,
talk with educated ease
about science and dragon slayers,
or spill my spittoon
when a cheerleader brushed against me,
but I was still way below the popular kids,
so far down the soles of their shoes
looked like a ceiling covered in ticks.
And that was my problem, you see.
I had no niche, no stage persona.
I was just me, and me equals death,
never mind what Nancy Regan said
(political wives don’t give good advice
for anyone but little girls
who are born to become political wives).
My best friend Bobby, after a while,
made it when he dyed his hair
and developed a bubblegum strut.
He was ‘that gay kid’ who talked about clothes
and all the girls confided in
(they gave me their secrets too,
but whereas with him he was one of their own
I was basically a priest,
so borderline that it hardly mattered).
After school when I’d return
to rehearse plays with my drama group,
and it was evening so the whole place was dark,
except for strip lights which made the hallways
turn a sickly fruit colour,
I’d pass the staircase opposite the front doors,
see each step ascend into a dense black,
then think something stupid before walking on.

Now I’m nineteen and failing college.
If you thought my story had a moral,
that I’d tell you I was rich, successful,
with my own Mercedes and a red hot lover,
well then I’m sorry to disappoint you.

i think the poem itself is great. some good insight into being gay in school and school in general. i like the the addenda verse which gives some kind of closure into how you faired and how you continue to fair.

if i had a nit it would be that in places it runs on too long and for me they're are too many commas, and maybe a little work on the enjambment.
the content is excellent and the narrative precise.

thanks for the read jack.

sorry for being a bit in depth as i know it's the mild crit forum