If only he hadn't kicked the class bully
in the nuts during lunch.  But it was either that
or snorting lime jello and tomato sauce
through a dirty straw in front
of the entire Glee Club.

Let the rest of them dodge that wacky red ball.
Let them choke on dustclouds and Gummi Bears.
There's something to be said
for lying face down in a dumpster
on top of a stack of Playboy centerfolds.

Richard Jordan
RICHARD JORDAN is a Ph.D. mathematician and writer who lives and works in the Washington, D.C. area. He has published poetry and flash fiction in nearly forty print and on-line magazines, including most recently, GW Review, Stirring, Red River Review, Kimera, Futures, Virginia Adversaria, Story Bytes, American Feed Magazine, Dakota House Journal, Blue Monk and Facets. The editor of Branches has chosen lines from one of his poems to include as an example in the 2003 Poet's Market.  He is also a judge/editor for the Beginnings Magazine quarterly poetry contest, and has served as Guest Associate Editor for Facets Magazine.