Inside the tiny lunch room, with its tiny chairs and low ceilings
next to the copier
behind closed-doors
In the corners of the hallways
It spreads–
like a lit match in a windy forest,
faster than the blink of an eye…
stories form and spread of her and him and them
“Did you hear…” “Are you going to…” “Can you believe…”
Whispers of half-truths and untruths rush down the halls,
pulsing with thrill,
sweeping up new half-truths on their way like white water rapids speeding down the linoleum.
And no–it’s not the students who partake
The adults ride the rapids just as much with much more ease and much more thrill,leaving behind a trail of dark smoke which chokes the grounds of this campus.
