woody woodpecker wouldn’t have liked me i just know it 

i sunk my fingers childlike into my eyes pushing too hard, rebounding out of the cosmic jelly fading from black into reality as i wait for my bowl of life to perfectly sog each square for a satisfying mouthful of crunch and goo sitting cross legged on a shag carpet square matted with broken popcorn and the neighbor girls hair wondering if i stared long enough into the box i could be my own cartoon fox i’d wear a sly smile and carry a cane a vulpes gene kelly singing in the rain at the end of every episode i’d give a wink and nod, “see you next time” 

the crashing sound from the next room snapped me out of that daydream loom and that fucking laugh ended the show fading out it was time to go, i know, my ‘god damn’ shoes, still wet from yesterday’s walk to this house, my daily douse of reasons to lace up and head to school. i have my own desk there, people ask me questions with less of a stare, when i shake they notice. i don’t say much. not sure how to thank you, yet i can slip into the world of history, a greek tragedy and can you believe we can link words that rhyme, i understand how to get three from nine and lunches although square are warm. there was a fire alarm once, it scared me, everyone knew where to go, i followed, we huddled together until the bell rang again. it was cool.