let the world fall into its sleep!
let these nations destroy themselves

with swift roads and impartial vows
For we shall be spared!
we shall be left standing with four eyes and four hands

to face what's left of concrete and honey
The things you fear are undefeatable

not by their nature but by your approach

Neil read the words on the white lined paper. The notebook was scented like her, she smelled like rain when you buried your head in her hair.

"Neil, it's your cue!" Came the voice of the director.

It was the dress rehearsal, and Neil was so wonderfully excited he felt he would burst. Two grand things were happening; he would be on stage and come to life. And he could be with Rachael once again. Neil set the notebook down quickly and ran onto the stage reciting his line like the empty auditorium was filled with awaiting spectators.

"Alright everybody," Said the director, after giving the actors their notes, "You all did wonderfully tonight," someone in the cast coughed at the obvious lie and Neil smiled, he wasn't nervous. After all, a bad dress rehearsal meant a great opening night.

He had borrowed Mr. Keating's car once again and rode with all due speed for the depot where Rachael was coming in five minutes.

He drove up to the shed where he had first met her and smiled at the sight. There she stood, her hair arrayed on her shoulders carelessly, in her uniform.

I smiled as he drove up and stopped at the station. I could barely contain myself as he came out of the car and tried desperately to control myself. I gave up promptly and ran into his arms. It had been a long month, not being able to see him, surviving merely on letters. It was tough. Right there in front of the rest of the passengers he kissed me on the mouth. I laughed as I pulled away, our foreheads touching, my arms around his neck, his around my waist. And we didn't speak till we got into the car.

"How was the train ride?" He asked, pulling out.

"Absolutely excruciating," I replied dramatically, "I thought we'd never get here,"

He gave my fingers a squeeze and looked over at me, his eyes bright and full of something I couldn't place, "Thank god you did make it,"

He held my hand the entire way to the school, the snow on the ground sloshing around the tires of the car. He pulled up to the guest house and opened the door for me, taking my suitcase and holding my hand with the other.

"I have to get the car back to Keating," He said, as we reached the door, "But just give me a moment,"

His hand pulled my waist back into the shadows of the side building where nobody could see. He backed me up to the brick wall, letting the suitcase fall with a thud to the damp ground. I smiled as his arms entangled themselves around me and he kissed me.

"So you missed me?" I said with a laugh.

"My god, yes," He said kissing me again full on the mouth.

I pulled away with a grin and worked my way from his arms, "We can save this for later," I replied, picking up my suitcase.

He took my hand, "Oh no, you can't do this to me,"

I looked over at him, his hair mussed up from my hands, breathing heavily. He was so beautiful at that moment.

"You've waited a month," I said, coming up close to him, laying my hand over his heart softly, "You can wait one more day,"

I gently brushed my lips over his and picking up my bag.

Neil watched her figure as she walked away. After smoothing his hair over somewhat and straightening his collar and coat, he drove Mr. Keating's car back over to the building and strode into the dormitory.

The dinner bell had just rung and the boys ran like a stampede down the hall.

"Save some for me," He called after he made it to his room, "But, room, fairy! Here comes Oberon," He quoted with a smile.

His thoughts were soon cut short when he saw a figure at his desk, reading his latest letter from Rachael that had a poem she had written for him within it.

"I want Paris

I want you drunk on wine

I want to walk with you
and hold you up and giggle and kiss

God how I miss

your smile and thick skin

How I'd worry

and you'd press me tight against you.

Extinguishing the red flame

of my head against your shoulder

Smooth as chalk dust

you'd laugh in the face of

death and uncertainty
And now his father was reading it with angry eyes. He let it fall down to the desk as Neil froze.

"Father," He breathed.

"Neil," His father replied evenly.

And Neil knew that he knew everything. He knew about Rachael and the play.

"Wait a minute. Before you say anything, please let me ex-" He pleaded but to no avail.

His father rose like a storm on the sea, "Don't you dare talk back to me," He boomed, "It's bad enough that you've wasted your time with this, this absurd acting business. But you deliberately deceived me! How, how, how did you expect to get away with this? Answer me. Who put you up to it? Was it this whore poet in these letters? Don't think I didn't see you two together out there, her pulling you aside in public,"

"She's not a whore," Neil said back, "and I was the one that was pulling her aside, it has nothing to do with her, father,"

"Then who was it? This new man, Keating?" His father persisted.

"No. Nobody-- I thought I'd surprise you." Neil said futility, "I've gotten all A's in every class."

"Did you think I wasn't going to find out?" Neil slunk back as his father raved, " 'Oh, my niece is in a play with your son,' says Mrs. Marks. 'No, no, no,' I say, 'you must be mistaken. My son's not in a play.' You made me a liar of me, Neil! Now, I don't want anything to do with your personal life, But tomorrow you are going to them and you telling them that you're quitting."

Neil stood shaking, his heart breaking with every word "No, I can't." He breathed, "I have the main part. The performance is tomorrow night."

"I don't care if the world comes to an end tomorrow night!" His father said even more forcefully than before, "You are through with that play. Is that clear? Is that clear?"

Neil opened his mouth, a fire burning so harsh within him he felt he would burst, "Yes, sir," Was all he uttered.

His father seemed satisfied but still irate and walked to the door before stopping, not looking over at his son as he breathed deeply, "I made a great many sacrifices to get you here, Neil, and you will not let me down." He said, closing the subject.

"No sir,"

And Neil was left alone in an empty room. He was no brave leader. Coward. He was a coward.

Poetry by Jewel