( those oak desks )

 

To the blooming of life, and to the dead students with their heads relying on the desk,

at the libraries with oak desks do they rest.

I hold carnations in my hands,

to give to people that have had whatever could have been had from adulthood to death

white teeth and golden grills drilling life through its thrills,

as I smell the carnations in my hands

I dream of roses, lying my back

by the unknown out there

in libraries and their oak desks