the crackle of the overhead speaker,
usually mute after morning announcements,
interrupted our lesson.
someone must have thought
we should know what had happened in dallas.
what happened in dallas
that sent us streaming into the halls,
sobbing and confused,
leaning against the shoulders
of teachers and friends,
pained and numb all at once.
pained and numb all at once
that he was gone, not yet
knowing it would all change now,
the bright future diminished, and our eyes
fixed on tv screens for days after,
tv screens during the day,
usually verboten until after dinner,
while history played out in front of us
inside the little black and white box:
the bloody pink suit, the riderless horse, the casket
lying in state