372

The smell of sweat that pours from every pore,
detoxifying flesh subject to work,
a brief escape from life where guidelines lurk
in every shadow and at every door.
New England was my home for years before
New Jersey, where I figured (like a jerk)
that freedom was somehow a likely perk
of New Life, with new places to explore.

Well…I sweep through a classroom, pick up trash,
and chase down students to keep them engaged
(to their great annoyance). My sweat goes splash
on the green rubber, my spirit uncaged.
Now there’s sweat in my eye, white lights aflash.
I perspire and therefore am not enraged.

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