I have to compliment you, after all you ignored me for four years in high school, condemned me to the outcasts, the geeks, the losers, the barely tolerated and then only when the Headmaster was watching.
I didn’t go to your parties, no one without an invitation ever dared, was left to the clubs no one wanted to join, but I have to say I was truly surprised, shocked almost when your letter came, reminding me of our great years of friendship, our camaraderie then, but regrettably I must decline to contribute to our class fund.
He had planned the exercise for weeks, certain this one would allow them to break through the wall that had imprisoned the metaphors within them. It was simple, and that was its beauty, too many attempts had become bogged down, mired in the fear that words could do the greatest harm. The exercise is simple, he said, and they put pens to paper. Later, toward the end of class, “would one of you be kind enough to read to the class your description of a young woman’s lips?” One boy meekly rose and through half clenched teeth said, “Her lips were precisely shaped to barely cover her teeth.”
First appeared in The Right to Depart, Plainview Press, (2008).