I went to NYNY with my father once we went to a restaurant and I got this pasta I remember thinking that the waitress looked too young to be working there like she was my age but her voice was a clever mature one experienced I remember sitting trying to yank myself back into the hyper aware-ness of waking day from being completely saturated and running on energy high and not there and I remember leaving and as we left I caught a glimpse of a woman sitting all dressed up her head's weight on the palm of a hand her mouth and eyes trembled buckled shook almost cracking tears and maybe it was how dehydrated exhausted

I was, but on the greasy subway, back to the hotel all I could think of were the woman's stifled tears while she teetered at the ledge of crying out. Michael Sowiski, gr. 10 Mirror, Mirror Seeing through the looking glass I must be on the other side Living on life unreal to me I feel as if the past has died This vision I see is common to me but others must see the unreality What I see is not real anymore It seems as if it never was The reflection I see is new to me I may mimic it, but I don't understand what it does This vision I see evokes no desire When it speaks, I feel it is a liar This is how I often feel, About the vision I see in the mirror Sometimes I like what I see Sometimes its actions evoke my terror Like it or not, this vision is mine own For what I see is to the bone Albert Lehrman, gr. 11