i skip class on a regular daily basis.
while teacher is lecturing, i walk down paths in my brain, entering rooms i didn't know were there.
usually i end up in my desk, staring at a glare on the whiteboard and wandering in
some far off reality. sometimes the office calls the classroom asking for kids to report there.
but somewhere in the mirrored reality of my brain, that never seems to happen.
usually when teacher answers the phone, it's something dreadful.

i see these things so clearly.

teacher answers, "hello?"
"hello, science department."
your family has died in a fiery crash. no survivers. no corpses. horrid painful deaths.
"oh, alright. thanks."

it's that simple.
i imagine these things, god, they can't ever come true.
i want an explosion in the science room; something so big you'll never forget.
i want that blaze around us, singing our eyebrows and arm hairs off.
all of us, running in a bundle underneath those fire retardant blankets.

running, running. running running running.

out into the cold snow, falling flat on our bellies, rolling, rolling, oh god, thank you.
thank you for giving me another day. another day of life.
thank you for saving me.