I wake up a little late,

after I’ve gone to bed a little late

and I arrive at school just on time,

every day.

I enter my first period with my headphones

jammed over my ears to drown

away all the sounds of the high school

And as I sit in my desk or chair

and wait for the teacher to begin his lecture

I start to wonder—

What if I were to leave the classroom

and the small friendly girl I call my sister

were to stand and yell at me

in a voice tinged with red and gold

And what if I were to accidentally

drop my books

spilling them, watching them flounder like fish

as they writhe and scream at me

to rescue them

And what if when I stooped, my back arched over

like Quasimodo

that beautiful, brown haired girl who

always seems to see me at my worst

when I’m coughing, when I’m tripping

when I’m catching myself on someone’s pull away dress

seems to see me, and

starts to laugh?

And what if I were to find out I’ve lost my job

and will have to live at home

instead of college

and I start to finally feel the walls of the room

shorten and contract

like the contracts I can no longer sign?

And what if I think that maybe I’m fine

but there’s an open little sore

right between my eyes

and in my mind

it’s growing larger and faster

becoming everything people see

until it covers me

and I become an imperfection

And what I fail a class

and see an open zero right between the lines

marked “final grade”

and what if I think that maybe I’m fat

because my stomach isn’t as hard

as the kids benching four forty-fives in the weight room

after lunch

and what if I think that for a moment I’m me

but the reflection in the mirror keeps glaring back

staring back

reminding me I’m nothing at all

But to look away is to break the spell

And I’m finally able to say

I can close my eyes

And what if I were to trip,

spilling my books

and in front of the girl with the white teeth

and short brown hair

and perfect personality

I stand

to feel my grades start to slip

as I did when I hit the floor

and to stand

to see my little girl

start to yell

until the vision directly behind the whites of my eyes

turns red and finally fades to black

until I can’t stand

and I’m just one man

or a kid with nothing to prove

but the attitude that this

is as bad as it gets at this age

And as long as the teacher starts his lecture

I listen

And the butterflies finally fall