A Quite Walk
One Minute Slam Poem

Power of Place (Fenn Edition)

A Worn Down Couch


   “A place belongs forever to whoever claims it hardest, remembers it most obsessively, wrenches it from itself, shapes it, renders it, loves it so radically that he remakes it in his own image.”
Joan Didion


    It’s that which goes unnoticed, that is most important. The couch which lays it’s rest in the gym lobby, is a holy place for the Fenn students. Only those who have sat quietly and waited their turn are allowed to sit there. For decades only the leaders of the student body, the ninth grade, have been allowed to sit on the blue worn-down couch. It is the couch itself which is the roots for all the laughter and talk that goes on there. For if one day that couch were to be removed, I and my classmates would be lost. Everyday the clock strikes ten, and I sling my backpack over my shoulders and meander my way over to the gym lobby. There I am met by my classmates and our recess starts. We laugh, drink our izzies, eat our chips and observe all who pass. We talk about sports, and brutally roast each other; but that’s what this place is all about. The couch provides a break from our Fenn lives and we are freed by the imprisonment of our schedule. Someone will challenge the shoes, and I will roast their hair. Time is but a prison and before soon enough recess is over. It’s ok though, because tomorrow we will repeat the same thing. The couch is more than just a place to sit during recess, it gives safe haven to be boys. It is unlike lunch in that the crowd surrounding the couch is larger. The couch is the true senior seats. This blue coach is covered in the stains from the drinks of decades of Fenn students; the cushions are so broken down they mold to each person who sits there instantly; the chairs surrounding the coach are nearly broken; and if you look between the cushion you will find an assortment of treats left by Fenn students. A place is not important because of it’s looks; it is instead important by the memories it holds. Sometimes you don’t realize how good the memories are until they are gone.