From the Fishouse

They last long for Fidelito who is not of this earth. With its
alphabets
and loose-leaf, sheets of construction paper, oranges, blues, lunch
boxes,
crepe-paper, paper maché, the teacher talk and rasp of chalk, long
division, multiplication, pronunciation, spelling and quelled hungers
at
lunch hour, the recesses of chase the girls/boys, catch-as-catch-can,
freeze
tag, war with rubber balls and big red welts the size of baseballs, war
with
a deck of cards, war of pencil breaking, or tether ball, kick ball,
being
goof balls in back near the coat racks, learning to cuss and whistle at
the
same time, saying Jesus, Mary, Joseph, holy, holy, holy . . . Lord,
the
girls who dare each other to kiss Fidelito, as he sits in the corner,
dazed,
watching birds in the frozen light.