the girl we called mother

there was a girl
in my french
class back in
highschool
that we called
mother. she was
tall and broad
shouldered,
with short brown
hair and eyes
the color of
fizzy root beer,
there may have
been a handful
of freckles across
her nose and
cheeks as well,
but it didn't make
her cute like it
would most girls
her age, instead
it seemed strange.
she was already
too old for freckles.
but she would scold
us on a daily basis,
sit up, stop talking,
you need a haircut,
are you chewing
gum? quit kicking
my seat. are you two
boys looking at
each other's test
papers? you boys
never have a pencil
do you? she'd
shake her head,
roll her eyes,
and make a clucking
noise with her
tongue. mother
is what we called
her. we're facebook
friends now, and
nothing much has
changed, she posts
me on a daily basis.
capitalize stephen,
she writes, capitalize.