#1
hello old friends! first poem I've written in... well, probably years.

of trains and school zones

have you ever been trapped in high school hallways
the lockers' incessant clang clang clang
(2 of 3 are out of space)
jocks, nerds and emos darting around
gotta get to class before the bell sounds
and you just wish for a second it would
all
slow
down

but then you punch your steering wheel when it does?
#2
I liked how quick and snappy this was. It's like you were presenting how rapidly life changes, but how at the same time, it remains consistent, boring and always provides these vastly different cultures that go in and out of popularity for no apparent reason.

The dispassion you have throughout is particularly demonstrated - for me at least - in the line "(2 of 3 are out of space)". And because you put the sentence in parentheses, it adds another layer of cynicism and bitterness.

You then have the description of the school hallway and the way it sounds walking through it, and how that parallels with being on a train going to and from your first job in your first city of gloom and depression.

Then you have the title talking about "school zones", which could refer to the time zones of life and how although everything changes around us, it's all comparable in one hazy one or another. And as regards that depressing imagery, I like how you add some 'punk' frustration with the lines "all slow down". You're telling me that you're tired of letting everything blur into one.

The punching of the steering wheel then sees the hypothetical you jump ahead another ten+ years where you can afford your own car, but also where you are old enough to have a heart attack and see your life suddenly abruptly slow down.

I liked this. It was a lot of fun to deciphor. Good to see you back, man!
#3
You're not around much, and neither am I. What a happy medium we've found.

you know what the best part of this poem is, and I shouldn't have to tell you that when it
all
slows
down,
it makes the most sense, has the most peace, and the change in subject at the end, to one that we didn't all know as students, throws us off because the tenses imply that 'have you ever been' means that you're still at it in those hallways, and still driving through traffic lights, patient and then not.

But I get the feeling from it, like how my whole countenance and spirit changed during my first read-through of the Great Gatsby, how I couldn't put it down but didn't want it to end, knowing that this feeling would last as a reference point forever.

And that's why you should write poems again.