orbit

This morning
We were going straight down the road,
Trees garbage, kids, cars flying off in all directions
Propelled by our path
Which in turn was rotating slowly towards the sun in the east
In which the angelic white buildings smiled with their glazed eyes
Which soon would have the sun bleaching their terraces
And in the school classroom, the boys in their grey shorts are taking notes
And making diagrams of the spheres that rotate around each other ceaselessly
Pencils propelled in straight lines that should be arcs.