the old school

they took the old school down.

bulldozed it all away,
the brick, the beams, the walls,
the blackboards,

what was left of chairs,
desks.

they knocked down the stairways
where a first
kiss took place,

where friends
were made, enemies too,

all the cold mornings
getting off the yellow
racket of buses,

the tests, the homework,
that you would
never forget.

the alley between buildings
where cigarettes were
smoked, gone,

where cards were played,
dice rolled,

pints of southern comfort hidden away
in the pockets of
winter coats stuffed into
the metal lockers.

it's a bare lot now.
no fields where we played,
no library
where you fell in love with books,
with words.
no cafeteria where inedible
meals were made.

the teachers, the coaches,
the principles.

each kid that crossed your path,
all gone.

everyone and everything gone.