Nadav had rough skin

when he touched

it was like sandpaper

rubbing flesh


girls have a habit

of boring me

to tears

he said


I looked

at Miss Ashdown's

broad behind

as she walked down


the aisle between desks

in class

her skirt swayed

like old ship's sails


all they talk of

is dolls and prams

and doll's clothes

and about whom


they'll marry

one day

I wondered

if Miss Ashdown's hips


wore away the wood

at the side

of the desks

as she walked


between them

I prefer boy's talk

of guns and battles

and wars and such


he said

I watched

as Miss Ashdown
turned and faced


the front of the class

her big bust

like battleship guns

do you like girl's talk?


Nadav asked

I like their gentleness

and softness

and smell of flowers


I said

but talk?

he said

what of that?


the knack

I said

is to listen

only to the last


few words of speech

to get the drift

of talk

Miss Ashdown


glared at Nadav

and threw

skill fully

chunks of chalk.

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