An Open Letter To the Bookworm Plushie That is Sitting on the Desk and Staring Right At Me
Your black eye that is encircled by
A capuchin monkey-fur colored ring
Is gazing at me
As your fluffy yellow body
Shaped like a slightly deformed Cheeto
Lies on a stack of books and papers
Maybe it’s the lack of a nose
But you remind me of the Sphinx
Unmoving and unchanging.
I don’t know a lot about you
Except that you appear to scare the crap out of my friend
And when he lobs you at me
After I place you on his shoulder
Despite your cute and nonthreatening appearance
You hurt like a bitch when you smack me.
I’m not particularly curious
As to how you arrived in the classroom
(Although it’s gripping, I’m sure)
No, what I’m more curious about is
What your life was like.
What book did you grow up in?
Looking at you, I’m thinking
Richard Scarry or Dr. Seuss
I really loved those two when I was little
I wonder if we ever met beforehand.
Where did your parents come from?
Where did they meet?
Did they meet in a Tolstoy novel?
Perhaps they met in A Comedy of Errors
I’m sure there were many mistaken identities before
They got together.
Did you have adventures, before you came to our humble classroom?
I bet you fought many courageous cockroaches
Bent on world domination
Was there a girl or a boy?
Why aren’t they with you now?
Did they die in your arms?
Were you unable to save them?
Or did they leave you?
Or did you leave them?
What must you think of us
As you watch us in the classroom
We’re certainly not the only class you watch
But I’m only in this classroom once a day
And I just wonder what you think of my class.
Are we too loud for you?
Normal human voices must feel like thunder to you
And we’re a very loud class.
Are we interesting?
I’d like to think so
We seem like a likeable bunch
Do you like us?
Or are we just something else to sit through
Before the quiet at the end of the day?
I hope we don’t bother you
And you don’t really bother me
Although if you felt so inclined
You could stop staring at me
You never blink, you see
And it’s a little worrying.
The girl who sits at the desk
At the almost but not quite
End of the room.