Cheektowaga Junior Senior High School - Centorial Yearbook (Cheektowaga, NY)

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and short stories by students of Mrs. R. Wisher TKe Amer'-Raw -Mag. 'Nye 9-Merklxavx 'Ha.r5. 3? Tjvvx Noecsivxvxlvxg -'ro Rafe. E 'HQEL Qmefxlkavy -Qlacb, ag. ZR F I 599 .K+ QVX JTMQ1-yvyosegi ' Q 'E SM'-+5 and skoeg, Q 'Q' I cringe a+ 'Hrxe QQM:-vXS, ' fQd,wLx'x+Q and blue. f Tkere 'xs a Maw. N ' A c. c-vxs'?ruc.+iovx WOYKAGW, Look a+ Ml 'VMQ 9vvxQv'lR31A 'Hag S+lc,l-4Qo'5 Cm Ms nav- amd Maw-d.Ma+ amd XLmeMpakX. Look ai' M15 Noumwers+-Qcvkew - 'L kwa H' Ov' keaua H-X There is A wxavw. His kakr has Whig. HRS c.Ke-Hxes ave wor-vx, kools A+ 'kke Flvvxevllcavx 'Mag Om Mg SMH- r4', Y Y '+R fe s -me - uc v, Q- A 1 O1 In dpgagg, 'th fQrvvxQrUJ,3?.H -at I Q ,Q bJka+ wkll Hapwen I+ These Two Should Meei' Q2 I A i fx IV A- ' ' +xN+ , .L'm YJQSKNVUVHS 0 3 H 1. WYE, Avvxerixxiavx ?x55- 167

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The rain is washing my face off. I am naked and the rain is popping All over my body. It's wearing little holes in my head, no hair left just smooth little holes. Each drop that rolls the length of my nose is the color of my skin and my nose grows smaller. Ears are gone, melted to the sides of my head. My eyes look out through milky fish eyelids. I have no mouth, No hair left just smooth little holes. Five shining mushrooms on each foot. Margie Krakowiak In the deep of a forest cool and dark A Sunbeam filters through. One leaf shimmers golden. Margie POTPOUFZFII-a collection of poems Sometimes I feel so trapped- chained to a one-way track The world spins me forward I can never move back. Gravity holds me down keeps me solid on the ground. fthe chains keep me from straying off to the sidesj The click of rails is regular, like a clock. My vision is limited, unreeling as I pass. Ohh, but wait, my chains, they melt, fall in pools of liquid mercury. Ho, lfm rising UD speeding UD so high away from my earthly prison I am free! No gravity can pull me down. I'm off the track! Hee hee! I'm flying! cavorting with clouds, Languidly floating among the stars. No time, No space. I am alive in my being! My body such a useful tool, can give me much delight but it doesn't trap me, I can discard it. So free so free! I am alive in my being! I will never come back to be trapped, and chained, and regulated. Margie Krakowiak 166

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Oh! I feel so good, right about now. Overhead, the sky is a mass of grey and white clouds, with a hint of darker Sky now and then revealing a star or two. Spiderlike fractures of lightning- ecstatic! Low moan of a distant train traveling, endless in my faraway mind. crawly bug on my lower lip. Margie Krakowiak lt descended upon our house in a black fury, Satan's tool-the wind. Shrieking and howling, like damned souls in Hades, it sought entrance to our abode. lt beat against the door- mighty wind, but solid oak barely creaks. No chinks in the walls could it find, no loose fastening on the shutter. Wind, wind, not strong enough, beaten. Moaning, sobbing, defeated, one last shriek of pure agony, and the wind is gone. Silence. Margie Krakowiak Now, there's you and me, together. Nighttime, we drift in our canoe. The lake is calm. Sky encompasses all- vast, dark, countless stars chip the blackness. l'm laying on my back legs and arms-trail, over the sides we beach on a tiny island gathering driftwood to take back. I lie on the sand You lie next to me. We look up at the stars. This is the picture we are in alone, together, alive, together. Margie Krakowiak