The Reunion In St. Vincent's High Poem by RIC BASTASA

We come back one time
at the end of this year
to the room where we
spent first year high school

we wend inside that room
of 30 empty chairs
we
remembered the brown paint
and the litter of crumpled
papers and we again heared
same words repeated for
the nth time which we
refused to memorize and
we focused our attention to
the blackboard where our
names were once written
but now completely erased
by them as new crazy voices
emerged replacing our
monotonic cadences fading
in the hallways enclosed with
those rusty iron grills.