By Larry Narron
I managed to fail
ninth grade English lit
with a curling
issue of Thrasher
or Big Brother hidden
behind the paper
bag-covered textbook
in my lap, the one with
the abridged version
of Great Expectations.
Our lives are mostly
as small as a thumb
nail photo
sequence unfolding
in a borrowed skate mag
whose pages are all
falling out, one by one,
like the gray hairs of old men.
Larry Narron grew up in San Diego County and received his BA in English and creative writing from the University of California, Berkeley. His poems have appeared in Phoebe, Bayou, Hobart, Slice, The Brooklyn Review, and elsewhere. They’ve been nominated for the Best of the Net and Best New Poets anthology.