Mira Mataric

School Matters

The aroma of coffee spreads
like memories of childhood
rice pudding with plenty of cinnamon
and a heavy cardboard satchel
filled with books and notebooks.

When I run,
the pencil box rattles with crayons,
a pencil sharpener and an eraser.
I am in the first grade and immensely proud
of the rattle and the weight of my satchel.
It is obviously a serious matter.

I go to school like my older brother.
Mom insisted on buying a stronger
leather bag, but who needs it?
It will not have a picture of kids on it
like the ones everybody else has.

Mom, I must have one also.
She finally agrees and says
when it falls apart in the rain
I will get you a leather one.
Finally, we both agree.

In the mornings, I run to school
Mamma makes sure I never leave late.
she does not think it proper for a girl to run
and arrive all breathless and sweaty.

Everyone runs, so I do too.
I like the rattle of the satchel contents.
It proves that I am a student
and what I carry is not toys.

The boys hit each other on the head
with their pencil boxes,
but I will not do that.
I want mine to look nice.

I pray to God not to let it rain,
so that I never have to carry
a brown leather satchel.
                                                                                                             


First Love Daze

Oh, my school days
filled with daze
the first day there was
a good-looking boy
who looked at me
and smiled. I smiled too.
At home in the meantime
I could not wait the next day
expecting more.
I tried my dresses
to find one that
looks best with my mother’s shoes
and heels that made me look
like an adult woman.
I came to school early
Impatient to see him
and tell that I would
like to be friends.
I waited and waited
but he never came.
His parents chose the school
in another city.
Oh, parents always ruin all!
They killed my first love.



We Meet Again

My dear friend,
we meet again
at the same place
but a year later.

As people always say,
You have not changed at all,
but that is an empty phrase.
Even a year ago at school
you changed in front of me
as if thunderstruck
when you saw the girl with me.

She is the girl
you have been trying to forget
and we, your friends,
never mention her.
A year has passed now
and she is back at school.

No matter what,
life must go on.
All the emotions
and memories held inside.
Only your guitar may grieve
with the words of love
that must not be told.