Somewhere perched on the edge of a crumbling concrete curb sits a girl
The sun is hot, low in the sky and stirring the bees
There is one faint and faded red paint stripe that meets the end of her seven-year legs
In the distance, she can hear the low-pitched rumble of a group of kids on their last recess: they are across the school yard
Right now, she feels small
Right now, she wants to go home
Right now, a teacher discovers her
She is trapped in a child’s body and understands the continuum of the tedium that she must endure
Just go
Just move from here to there
Shuffle me, I’m just a number, another warm body to corral
The food is a combination of slippery spaghetti noodles coated in orange grease with a side of overcooked cold green beans.
The only way not to be overlooked is to force the shots of dopamine; to take the risk and then take the hits
When the new kid says his name is Mickey, why do you blurt ‘as in mouse?’
Stop monkeying around and eat the beans
If you don’t choke down your lunch, you will be forced to move to the wall
Just do it
Mom will be mad
Dad will give you his last 3 mint lifesavers
The salt glazed, factory issue bricks offer a reprieve from the sounds and smells of elementary mediocrity
The wall is a refuge from the deafening chatter and the soupy splatter
I eat this stuff because I know there is no alternative to kill the pangs
I eat this stuff because it’s there
I eat this stuff because it’s the next miniscule step in the process of growing these 7-year legs into 8
Ugh
Magic 8 ball, what does tomorrow hold?
Ask again later