Over the blackboard
The gray and white photo stares
All day at the door.

The blank expression,
As bored as us and stuck too,
Part of the decor.

I sometimes wondered
Of the advice, on deaf ears,
At the photo shoot.

Head back, chest in front,
Bit disinterested but
Must be hard to tell.

The mirrored setting,
The side pose, the sheer number
Of copies afoot

Like some DNA
Peddled to every household
Even if unwell.

I am so little.
The world is complicated.
Biased, cruel, not fair.

I am an old man.
The retro world doesn't care
To try to compare.

Despots come and go
As if in endless supply
Just like the brooder

At the back of this class.


Jam25