chalk board

in pairs
we clapped the erasers behind
the school. now the school
is a hamburger. they cut down
my beloved tree years ago. 
it was the first tree i ever climbed.
i wonder sometimes where
the wood ended up & if they sold it
to become chicken nuggets.
two of my teachers have died.
i looked up their obituaries 
& they were written in chalk
on the ceiling of a parking garage
in the nearby city. it is astounding
where our stories end up. 
you don't really see chalkboards
anymore. instead, everything
has been "upgraded." i had a dream
last night that it was my first day
of middle school again. only, i was
as big & hairy as i am now. i didn't
really feel more or less out of place though.
back then, i always felt like my body 
was betraying me somehow. 
the hallways glowed. there were
street food salespeople selling
all kinds of hot flesh. i was hungry
but the hallways were crowded 
with children & i didn't have
enough hands. every once in awhile
my 3rd grade teacher let us 
draw on the chalkboard. it was like
having a megaphone. i felt my sliver
of chalk shrinking beneath 
the weight of all i had to paint.
dinosaurs & poetry & my name 
over & over. i wake up sometimes
inside a chalkboard & it is glorious. 
i think they are from all the old rooms
that used to teach me about 
just how small i was. a year ago,
my fifth-grade teacher wrote to me.
she told me she was dying of cancer.
"was i kind to you?" she asked.
she was not but i lied to her. 
i hope when i am dying that people
don't lie to me. i want the truth
& i want a piece of bark from
that old tree. take me out back to clap
erasers. clap with me. let us beat 
our wings like useless little birds.
tell me i have done a marvelous job.