I remember Enver Creek School:
the parking lot completely quiet when I drove in,
the polite girl student I met at the front
who walked me to the main entrance.
I remember the comings and goings in the office,
where a student sat on a chair waiting for someone
as I checked in and got my Visitor badge from someone else.
I remember the busy atmosphere in the cafeteria space
where students were selling pink anti-bullying t-shirts.
I remember young faces looking at me with curiosity
or looking away with distraction or boredom
as I read my poetry, wondered if I had chosen good samples.
I remember the evidence of memory revealed on young faces
and their simple but beautiful words about basketball, family,
places nostalgically remembered as they wrote.
I remember Mr. Eberle eliciting examples of poetic technique.
and the parking lot when I left, busy and chaotic
as cars lined up to get out to the street.
I recall the sweet serious face of a girl in a lavender hoodie,
lighting up the cloudy afternoon as she waved through the car window,
recognizing me from my recent visit.
These things I have placed in my box of treasures
so that I can look at them and remember.