Writing

Renee Good just wanted to go home

To her kids

6, 12, and 15

I've watched the video

I didn't want to

But I needed to see for myself if she really tried to run the agent over

She didn't

I was a room with the lights turned low,

Curtains drawn so no one could see

The cracks in the walls, the quiet ache,

The fear that I was too broken to be free.

I learned to build myself in layers,

Being a dreamer is hard, for all of us. All the authors, poets, musicians, and artists.

For those who aren’t any of these let me explain it for you.

i sit on the classroom floor.

the room is dark and cold.

i press my back against the wall.

the door is barricaded with a chair.

my teacher stands in front of it, as

Since I could eat, I have loved eating. Since I could open

my mouth and shriek for sustenance I have been in love with food.

And it has always loved me back -

tacos, grilled cheese, steak, sushi, matzo ball soup,

Conversations glided through Willow the same way in which paper airplanes are flown through the sky. The classroom was only partially filled due to philosophy's limited popularity, however idle chatter has yet to be deterred by this.