Monday, December 27, 2010

Stories in Dark Stone

The grounds around the school are oak-shaded and spare.  

The building is a simple boxy structure of five stories in dark stone with no pleasing aspect. Nor am I pleased to be heading into it.

I am not remembering which the class subject is. I do know I am not fit for it, or, as I prefer, it for me. I know it is something for which I cannot muster the slightest effort for learning, as that describes practically my entire school day.

My jeans are spotted. Something has marred the shins of my jeans. This is only another mark against me. I walk alone, marked as an outsider, without sufficient notice to graduate to full-on rebel.

Realization like an epiphany warms over me. Hey, I really don't need to do this. Always this is salvation for me, who am caught in a conveyer designed by and for strangers. For what's the point? Just to sit bored and embarrassed in order to vex a teacher and encourage classmates that at least they ain't dumb as me.

I don't have to enter that lifeless structure. There is another way. It's along the path around the monolith to the gate and escape. Why didn't I think of this before?

There are stoonts gathered by the front parking lot. I pass at a distance, but I need not worry about notice even were I to walk right through them.

A girl is dancing and chanting a skit.

I know how to groom
I learned it in home room
My heart is a cardigan
Woven on a loom!

My last decision on the campus is to never attend a reunion.

Yet the dark walls follow me.