After a Pinnacle

After a Pinnacle Elementary Workday

Amy Nelson

I want the wind to blow down these walls, set me free and set me on fire.

I don't want to be the books. I don't want to be the teacher or the white board or the crayons.

I want to lay away from here covered with pages of frustration filled notebooks. I want to be the fire alarm that silences and empties rooms with a single sound.

I don't want to be the pencil handled and controlled by sticky germ infested fingers. I don't want to be the obligated. I don't want to be the constant reminder of obedience. I don't want to be a tracking worksheet, a letter to parents, the voice of fake encouragement.

I want to be a running mouth and spill out fiery words and bottled rudeness, that sparks and sets the world to flame, and gets me fired. Maybe

I will quit. Maybe I'll take the wind out of this box and set myself free

Maybe I'll realize when I loose my bed, I don't want to be a soup kitchen line. I don't want to be a walking wanderer

without a car payment. I'll find a box. Find the wind. Find my fire. I'll take the box with me. Inside the small part of my life

that keeps me sane. I want to be free.