10 minute mysteries

in middle school we had this substitute teacher
who ended class by reading from a yellowish 
brittle-paged book called Ten Minute Mysteries.
the man had hair coming out of his ears & tufts
of grey on both sides of his glossy bald head.
he kept a notepad in his breast pocket. despite
writing his name on the board at the start of
each class i can't remember what it was. 
i keep re-conjuring the image of his back turned 
to us, chalk in hand, as if i can reenact his
name into existence. i was thinking about
this while looking out the window when it started
storming yesterday. the trees throwing down their
leaves in frustration. i wondered if myself there
was something they couldn't remember too.
i never talked much about him to my friends 
in middle school & i think that might be because
i didn't really know anyone in middle school.
i was still trying on bodies. eyes tearing up
as i tried to circle them in olive colored eyeliner
like Jessie & Laura did. touching the smooth plumpness
of my freckled face in the girl's bathroom mirror.
the smell of strange sterile pink soap.
the whole point of the 10 minute mysteries was to
get you to solve the scenario piece by piece as
a class. there were murders & missing diamonds &
sometimes mundane occurrences like broken lamps.
i always wanted to solve it all by myself. i'd 
scribble frantically on the back of a piece
of notebook paper trying to take in all the details.
i never did answer one but the man would take on
my desk & nod & say something like "good shot" 
or "nice try." on days like this i want someone
to write me into that book. maybe as the detective.
i could be the criminal too, it could be interesting.
would the younger me notice myself in the story?
the teacher reading aloud. me standing up from
the grey desk & walking forward into the front cover 
of the book with a great big golden watch on it.
could i be solved in ten minutes? before the buzzer
rings for eighth period. before my hair un-straightens 
in the humid mouth of may. before the gun smoke clears
& the finger prints are wiped from the diamond.
before i leaned over a bathroom sink, painting
the circumference of each eye. are you a girl?