Two Poems

Hints

She learned to rub surfaces while waiting.
Walking to lunch in line,
she trailed her fingers over wall marks, graffiti
leaching up through gray paint,
words and puffy hearts dug into the plaster.
She did not talk at break,
lined up against the wall.

The slates held old equations, sentence diagrams, vocabulary.
The class put heads to their desks,
steaming the tops with their breath,
carving in new clues.
There was nothing for her to do.
Sr. Anne Marie, O.S.U., gave her the boards.
She drew no pictures. She traced every scratch with chalk.

Least Exclusive Jazz Club

Cuttings for ground cover root in a jam jar
	on the stained plastic table lit
		by candles guttering in shot glasses.

The music's close as 
	a choosy club's Siberia. 
		This is a ringside table.  

The jam's recorded,
	does not relate
		to this landscape.

The music escapes
	to another venue, open when you care.