You’re standing out in the back of the red
xxxxxxxbrick schoolhouse & clapping the chalk
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxerasures together like mad, bad boys, praying
to hear the final bell ring so you might begin, at last,
xxxxxxxyour after-school detention, but as you turn in, you are
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxable to barely make out the building through the clouds
of chalk dust floating about in your face, choking you.
xxxxxxxNow you realize the school of long ago has been torn
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxdown. You stand there lost, trembling, with nowhere
to go & no one to turn to who’s in on the secret to
xxxxxxxgive you a hint that this is the bad dream that
xxxxxxxxxxxxxxyou must live with for the rest of your life.
Grey Sparrow Journal 