World History: Shahid #4

The tin soldier grew bold, stood tall;
his loosely laced shoes worn only for a laugh.

A girl, Mandy, tugged his pants,
and held his hand for a while.

His black eyes, crossed
in front of empty space, 

lost focus for a considerable time.

I was
the newest statue in this room,
a substitute for a particular lady
who had escaped on her teacher broom.

I read
the history instructions she provided:

A map of our world, their home planet,
damn it, damn it, damn it,
not an insignificant map; not poison gas
or a strange path to an essay museum.

There's Vietnam, I pointed out,

and Mao's mainland China,

and Formosa,

which I mentioned in reference to

a Mr. Peanut 

who was angrily tossed at the blackboard,

fell to the floor,

then crossed a narrow strait to his island.

I leaned on the blue podium which reeked of tedium
but it held my weight 

while
the tin soldier killed me with his lame jokes.

He was missing a prominent front tooth.

A lopsided smile, mostly.

But his classmates saw him as a stud;

a teacher denier!

He held their attention.

They ignored the map.

Their voices like lead balloons,
crashed into insignificance,

while I grasped at straws.

Their future was a warning bell soon to ring,

It rang!!  They quickly emptied the room.

and That's All Folks!