school house

it surprises you.
the abandoned building.
the red brick
in tact. windows shattered
by rocks.
the doors chained
shut.
graffiti criss crossed
across
the walls.
you carried
a satchel of books in
there once.
for six years, up
those steps
down the linoleum
halls, the columns
of metal lockers
on each side.
taking your seat
where told.
it seemed as if it would
never end
this torturous teaching,
waiting for those hands
on the clock
to spin,
and then it did,
and now this.
empty and abandoned,
but not you,
not yet.