Gone is, every day, without fail, the school bus
sometimes it's late and sometimes I am,
running across the street, backpack bouncing,
because I know our driver will wait--now,
I'm never late
unless I'm always late--I can't tell, because
there's no bus to be late for anymore.
Gone is carrying my chromebook from class to class--hugged in its case,
tight against the school supplies
against my chest--now,
it resides on the dining room table,
the purple case tucked into my backpack,
forgotten.
Gone is math class where
our teacher makes up number songs with
finger snapping and fun--now,
I'm staring at video after video on Khan academy,
asking my father for help.
Gone is always being
at least ten minutes late to lunch
(or maybe more, it always depends)
because, well, we talk as we
pack up and make our locker stops--now,
sometimes it's late and sometimes I am,
running across the street, backpack bouncing,
because I know our driver will wait--now,
I'm never late
unless I'm always late--I can't tell, because
there's no bus to be late for anymore.
Gone is carrying my chromebook from class to class--hugged in its case,
tight against the school supplies
against my chest--now,
it resides on the dining room table,
the purple case tucked into my backpack,
forgotten.
Gone is math class where
our teacher makes up number songs with
finger snapping and fun--now,
I'm staring at video after video on Khan academy,
asking my father for help.
Gone is always being
at least ten minutes late to lunch
(or maybe more, it always depends)
because, well, we talk as we
pack up and make our locker stops--now,
