The first of April, some do say, April The 1st
Is set apart for All Fools’ Day.
But why the people call it so,
Nor I, nor they themselves do know.
But on this day are people sent
On purpose for pure merriment.
– Poor Robin’s Almanac (1790)

Mackenzie put a whoopie cushion
on the teacher’s chair.
Makayla told the teacher
that a bug was in her hair.

Alyssa brought an apple
with a purple gummy worm
and gave it to the teacher
just to see if she would squirm.

Elijah left a piece of plastic
dog doo on the floor,
and Vincent put some plastic vomit
in the teacher’s drawer.

Amanda put a goldfish
in the teacher’s drinking glass.
These April Fool’s Day pranks
are ones that you could use in class.

Before you go and try them, though,
there’s something I should mention:
The teacher wasn’t fooling
when she put us in detention.

–Kenn Nesbitt

I’m not your parent, nor are you my slave.
I wouldn’t try to say what you must do.
You alone will judge how you behave,
And do what you consider best for you.
But if you love someone, it means you care
How what you do affects the one you love.
It means sometimes that two in love must share
A hard decision one is certain of.
So if your friend still wants you for his* own,
It hurts me that you want him* for a friend.
Our mutual commitment should be known,
And both of us should such encroachments end.
Love is fragile, delicate, and fine;
To keep it whole, one has to draw a line.

I wish I were a cliff
Rather than a gentle hill
That climbing up on top
Might be some kind of thrill.

I wish I were a sand dune
Rather than a verdant garden
That my undulations
Might your passion harden.

I wish I were a vixen
Rather than a faithful dog
That you might pursue me
With more than just a nod.

But I am the one I am
Rather than the one I’m not,
So please make me the fantasy
That keeps our loving hot.

I want to make you smile as you make me.
I wish you saw my thoughts right through my eyes.
You ask me what I’m thinking. I can’t tell you.
You are the stars, and I the empty skies.

In me there is a yearning ever flowing
That needs to reach an end that never comes.
I cannot be myself without you with me.
This is a truth no wisdom ever plumbs.

You laugh, and say that I’m your personal angel,
And this is what I want so much to be.
The beauty of my life is like a passion
That blows right through the person that you see.

I want to help you fly,
But not away from me.
I want what’s best for you,
But fear what that might be.

There is no paradox
More difficult than this:
That I would die for you,
Yet not give up your kiss.

So do not mind my madness;
Fly bravely, if you must:
I’ll watch you, happy in your joy,
And teach my heart to trust.

Last night, today, tonight I’ve thought of you,
Your fear of loving me, your fear of pain,
My own reluctance soon to love again,
And why we often flee what we pursue.
I’ve thought: if we could make time disappear,
Prune past and future, make the moment flower,
Lobotomize all save this single hour,
Then we could love with neither hope nor fear.
But when we pause to watch the moment flow,
Beneath we see eternity and space,
So thin a moving film is time and place,
Removing us, and all we love and know.
I cannot but anticipate the end:
Desire a lover, yet fear to lose a friend.

I thought I must give up on life
And turn into a stone;
The desert wind quite suited me:
No heart, no mind–just bone.

I thought it would be dumb to try
To want something again;
Wanting turns to need, and then
Transmogrifies to pain.

I laughed at people still in love
Who trusted someone’s word;
To make my happiness depend
On faith seemed quite absurd.

I lay alone and wonder-struck,
Sleepless in my bed,
Still numb, still dumb, still ice, ice cold,
Not knowing I was dead.

And then you came and shone upon
My meadow full of snow,
And saw the flowers only love
Could recognize and grow;

And made me feel so beautiful
I shed my cold, cold skin,
And opened up my heart to you,
And, fearful, let you in.

And now, my dear, I am in love,
With all that I’ve been through.
I know the worst of all the world,
And I believe in you.

I promise you my innocence
When fire fills the sky,
When the sun erupts in ecstasy
And fading furies die.

I want to fill your life with love,
So full you want to cry,
And make myself your land and sea,
Your mirror and your eye.

I lay my happiness upon
The pillow of your sigh;
Your joy, your love, your need of me
Is where my angels lie.

Love returns on Saturdays,
Having been away
To labor in the labyrinth
That underlies our joy.

How dark the days of abstinence,
Of sleep too dire to stay,
Of mornings mere mechanical
And flesh no hands employ!

But then–Ah, then!–on Saturdays
Love finally has its way,
Coming into crevices
Whose cravings passions buoy.

How beautiful, the love that can
Such soporifics sway!
No wasteland world of weekdays shall
Our dalliance destroy!