cocked

He saw himself a student
And thus set free to be
As yet unschooled in everything
A cocked capacity

“I know I’d know the numbers
If I cared to see the sum
But better just to walk towards school
Than ever have it done

"There’s the bench I pine on, Mondays
At lunch I thrill at gates
On Fridays I just grab my chest
Slumped under nameless freight"

And so he stands at windows
He marks each weekday’s pass
Tucked snug into a dignity
Expectant ignorance

Should I tell the splendid novice
Conclusion not his key
To evaporate approaching is
Arrival, finally