Report card demolition

Fresh and clean

to smell and feel

my favourite jeans

like second skin

but as i zip

i feel a lump

a wad of fluff

a foreign feel

i pulled and fished

but there remained

fibres and particles

in the pocket deep

i pinch the deep end

and pull it inside

'til it's fully out

a white-washed tongue

letting the wind

take up in its wings

the remaining fluff

of what once was

my marks and grades

of a school year done

obliterated, disintegrated

into lumps of pocket fluff