It was pitch black, the movie projector’s fan hummed, as
Moving pictures flickered to a faraway place
And other lives, to be followed by a quiz.
The air inside was steamy, like the Amazon.
Paul was the first.
Armed with a straw and several balls of wadded paper and spit,
He aimed, first high, and then low,
Inspiring an increasing barrage from the flanks.
Silent and swift, we fired at that elusive tribe.
There would be no prisoners.
We had banded together.
The evidence lay strewn across the slick tile.
It rested in ponytails,
Shirt collars, desktops, and
Dotted the screen.
Several mounds were on her desk.
As the first fluorescent light lit, even
Ellen, the teacher’s pet, understood
There would be
No recess that day.
1/29/26
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