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enjoy this writing from Ralph Monday in the free Down in the Dirt 2014 PDF file chapbook: The Girl Next Door and Other Poems (click on the front cover image or the title text to download the free PDF file)				You can also order this as a 2014 6" x 9" perfect-bound paperback ISBN# book! Click on the cover spread for the book The Girl Next Door and Other Poems

Order this writing in the book What Must be Done (a Down in the Dirt July - Dec. 2014 collection book)		get the 372 page July - Dec. 2014 Down in the Dirt magazine issue collection 6" x 9" ISBN# paperback book:

Revising the World through Pixels

Ralph Monday

A computer is not the place to find self, it is not
the eye of god, but is a virtual place that entered
long enough, coughs up narcissism in online
searches, a social medium where the high school

sweetheart returns cooing pursed lip kisses
while you dissected the frog in biology class
with instruments sharp enough to pierce a
witch’s black heart, the blood oozing out as a

curious plume where the smell can’t be sucked
away by ventilators. Or Miss Lawson, the hot
young typing teacher who wore tight skirts,
tighter sweaters so that her breasts strained

out like zoo beasts bursting through bars,
rumored to be having an affair with the principal.
At least that is what the acne faced girl said,
the one who wrecked the Drivers Ed car

while you read a science fiction pulp in the
backseat about bug eyed monsters gobbling
up young teachers in tight skirts and tight
sweaters. Said this to the principal when he

picked us up to drive us back to school,
and he never replied but sat with a face
used at blackjack tournaments in Vegas
while the girl’s pimples blushed in shame.

Then there was the biology teacher, a precursor
to Mr. Science, who told his sixth period class
that he could predict the future. He proved it
by having us concoct gun powder pellets

in chemistry class, place them in the hall
outside the class door. When dismissal bell
rang, the students rushing like windmills,
shoes plopping on the ambush, sharp popcorn

explosions made the girls squeal and scream.
He was right. Jumping jacks leaping into the
air, the forced air pressure as they descended
blew skirts upward so that we could see
their panties. Simple physics he grinned.
None of this is true of course—except the
acne, Miss Lawson, a book never finished,
and pixels on a screen.

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