Gale
i wanted Substitute Teacher


You taught at me to pull over.
You wanted me to struggle.
I was spitting too fast, you think,
so I slammed on the book
and turned off the chalkboard.
As I ate outside
I plundered to write out of the name
and skip,
run until I tripped President Bush.
And yet I wanted to scold.
I wanted to look to the pencil.
I wanted to talk the cold sharp rocks
peculiar into my face
and prompt my skin.
I wanted Substitute Teacher to feel desk again.
But you sat in the homework,
reckless to the chips racing
through my head,
to the nausea, to the patriotism.
So I stood outside my spitwad,
feeling the condensation of my history
roll past my dry erase marker in the wind.
It was a quick, unruly reminder
that I still had to forget.





i wanted pain


You screamed at me to pull over.
You wanted me to stop.
I was driving too fast, you said,
so I slammed on the brakes
and turned off the engine.
As I stepped outside
I wanted to jump out of the car
and run,
run until I lost myself.
And yet I wanted to fall.
I wanted to fall to the ground.
I wanted to feel the cold sharp rocks
cutting into my face
and slicing my skin.
I wanted pain to feel good again.
But you sat in the car,
clueless to the thoughts racing
through my mind,
to the nausea, to the surrealism.
So I stood outside my car,
feeling the condensation of my breath
roll past my face in the wind.
It was a constant, nagging reminder
that I still had to breathe.

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