SOL: Touched by an Angel

"Alright people," Mr. Bustos commanded," I want you to make a drawing out of these poems I handed out to you."

"Who are these poems by?" Katy asked.

"Maya Angelou!" I said aloud(to myself actually).

Mr. Bustos murmured a "yes" and walked back to his desk.

My poem was called I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings, same as Eleanor's, who was seated at my table with Mehr and I. I looked at Mehr's poem title, Alone, and giggled. Mehr made a funny frown face.

"I don't like mine!" she complained.

"Like what?" Eleanor asked, looking up from her sketch.

"This," Mehr showed her the poem. Eleanor giggled too.

"Here," Eleanor said," let me change it," and she went to the table in front of us where Katy, Sara, Stephanie and Daniela sat to trade.

After a few seconds, she came back with a new one, Touched by an Angel. Mehr seemed delighted and we started to sketch. Then out of the blue,"I wonder how you can be touched be an angel?" Mehr said to herself.

Both Eleanor and I looked up and wondered too. Suddenly, Eleanor stood up, made her hands look like wings as she made a halleluyah sound and poked Mehr on the forehead. We all burst into laughter and mimiced what she just did again and again till the bell rang.

S.O.L #31: I Got A Hair Cut!

Snipping across hair

Black water cascading down

to the floor piling.

My hair shortens and reaches

the shoulders, starting anew.

S.O.L #30: I'm Sore.

I am sore all over! I tagged along with my mom to aerobics class today, and I think the room is still spinning....My legs are shaky, my arms stiff, my stomach aching-- and guess what? I'm going again tomorrow--the pain, the pain! Let's just hope it won't be as painful as today, bye!

S.O.L #29: Look at the Moon, She's Shining Up There!

We stopped at a traffic light. The coast near the freeway looks brighter than usual at this time of night, I thought. I leaned forward from the back seat and craned my neck up the windshield between my parents who were having a conversation and what a sight! It was a full moon, the other sphere that illuminates the night sky--it's enormous than usual, and is it gold? I have to start noticing things.

" Look, look!" I yelled, pressing my face against the window pointing at the moon as the car hit drive," It's a full moon today!''

Mom and Dad didn't even flinch--they must be really involved in their conversation, I told myself.

As we drove to the deli and waited for Mom to come out, I began to make up childish reasons why the moon was never noticed by me: (a) because she (it?) is shy and hides behind the clouds, (b) maybe since the sky is like a stage--everyone looks at it--and it's stage fright.

When we got home, the moon was even brighter. Weird, eh? The moon has many mystical ways, and it still does mystify us today.

S.O.L #28: On the Way to El Valle....

A long path welcomes--
when the valley sends two birds,
wing spans of promise.

S.O.L #27: Book-less

This just hit me a few minutes ago--it's hard to find a book you want to read, when you have that urge to. I don't really know why, but I just noticed, when you want to read a book when you're bored, no book that you have or have read excites you. Never. Right now I'm searching for a book online to find at the bookstores in Panama(you'd be suprised on their varieties!).

Anyone have any suggestions? Leave a comment please!

S.O.L #26: Ping-Pong

Yeji, I missed what we did today
when we both watched the tiny white speck disappear
to the other side.

In minutes that white speck has transformed
from a cloud in your hand to a
weapon of stupidity.

I can hear the laughs,
those hysterical ones, where we
couldn't help but fall on the cold, dusty floor
and try to bring ourselves back from our worlds.

The boys on the other table are in their own world too: they shout
as if we weren't there, they ignore us when we tell them to shut up
Their clouds fly out crazily just like ours: I think
it broke the ceiling light.

And if you thought about it, P.E. wasn't as bad
as when we just sat on the droopy, wooden stage floor doing nothing but
talk, and soccer, basketball, we had not bothered to play

screaming at us to participate and get a grade. This is the P.E. we're both
failing for.
The bell has rung: time passed like a speeding bullet, like that
comet in G-3, where we both fell to our knees

under the table, that ocean blue table
where we, pathetic players played:
a silly game of Ping-Pong.