MUSHROOM m i n d

By Steph Raymond All Rights Reserved ©

Other / Poetry



Class was nearly over and her professor’s voice was muffled by the sound of the

t-i-c-k-i-n-g clock

and hurried whispers

among her peers.

She looked up from her doodle filled notebook

for what felt like the first time since class began

when a different voice broke forth.

It was truly a distinctive sound—

unlike any other she’d come to encounter in her lifetime.

It was r a w,

with an inquisitive undertone,

savoury and lain in velvet

w a v e r i n g

between gentle and coarse

with each new juncture in the shared conversation.

She looked across the table to where the boy with the

s i l v e r y

voice was sitting.

He was seemingly tall,

with dark hair that hid under a ball cap.

He had large almond eyes

whose color she could not determine

because the lights in the classroom were off

due to the projector.

But they were genuine and serious.

She then noticed the hoop hugging

the right side of his full bottom lip

and realized it was the boy

her friend had told her about.


She watched him carefully and t h o r o u g h l y ,

as he debated with their professor over politics

and decided that he was intelligent and idealistic if not a little arrogant.

The unacknowledged truth of it was that

she was intimidated by his cleverness

and the l y r i c a l

way he formed and revealed his ideas

and therefore subconsciously

made the decision not to speak with him.

By the end of the class she concluded that

she likely couldn’t be friends with him anyway.

She had a boyfriend of five years and he made her too curious.

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