I like her hair. The gray locks speak; they speak like the poet does herself. The room we spend an hour and fifteen minutes in smells like fresh apples. I’m just kidding.
They all look creative, these fresh faces whom I’ve never encountered before. They look like they have a lot to write and say. They look like they’re important and have something to give back to society. They are not just consumers. Yeah, they are a creative bunch. You can tell they’ve got something if you just look at them, and how they’re dressed. There is one kid who likes to be funny, and he actually is. And there is this other kid who likes to argue everything, which is good because it forces the rest of us to think. And maybe he is right; maybe “I love you” has in fact become cliché.
This is a creative writing class and we all think we’re writers.
I guess we are.