“High School is the place where poetry goes to die.” ~ Billy Collins
I’m not sure whether or not my high school experience included an attempted murder or poetry. But mine was an unusual and invigorating place, so maybe the poetic anemia of other schools wasn’t so much a factor during my four years in a bucolic boarding school in New England. Yes, there were warts, but no poetry fatwa.
And that time blurred photograph? Yours truly during the last year of high school. A flashback resurfaced by an old friend. An old new friend.