Twas the Night Before High School

I have not posted for several days, because I have been squeezing the blood from life, trying to sweat out the last dribbles of mortality I can. Tomorrow, I may die. I’m not sure I’ll even mind too much. As long as it’s something flamboyant and well-publicized.

Locked in several libraries, hunched down at tables in the back of cafes, I have been reading books I meant to read two months ago. I recently finished the reading that I must write on tomorrow, and that I only finished last night. Sipping on iced mochas, I underlined ironic dialogue tags. I underlined everything.

Every erudite phrase. Puns, wisecracks, slanders, homilies, anecdotes, proverbs, epigrams, apothegms, bon mots, and generalities. The metaphors and the similes and the thematic cues. I’d scribble down surreptitiously derogatory comments about the author and move on.

My senior year of high school starts tomorrow, and I thought I might be a bit more excited. I’m merely anxious, repulsed, and shocked. Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, I will wake at 8 in the morning.

Twas the night before high school…

and all through the town

red bull cans dropped in stupor

crushed on the ground

“What?” the teens said

“We have school tomorrow?

But what about all the time we had

We still have yet time to borrow.”

So they packed up their things

and zipped their bags tight

And waited too patient

for it to turn night

then set their alarm clocks

and stared forever through the dark

And wondered exactly

where they were expected to park

Twas the night before high school…

and with their consciousness fight-

teens tossed and turned and dreamed

of the horror awaiting at first light


5 thoughts on “Twas the Night Before High School

  1. Ah, but I sympathize, for my own destiny on the morrow is as such, and my own year in secondary school approaches, as do ten courses. TEN COURSES! That life should be thus limited in it’s reach. That one should simply be vermin in a maze, following the same circle, the same line, the same pattern unto death.

    We pretend we can go anywhere but really are limited to entering that high school tomorrow. Philosophical freedom of choice cannot exist when one’s life is about to become a routine, a pattern, one that never alters. We live according to rules set down by our employers, our government, our relatives, ourselves!

    The horrors that await at first light are those of pattern and conformity.

    1. I believe you will survive. Tomorrow is our fourth week of school, and it seems somewhat daunting. Yes, altogether worthless, but high school is the soapy floor you must skid across to reach the toilet. You absolutely must cross it, even if that means busting your ass a few times.

  2. Wise words… However, if one intends rather to reach a more conveniently placed cubicle then the soapy floor may be unnecessary. We start highschool tomorrow, so it is difficult to raise objection seeing that other have had so much less time to do as little as possible. Perhaps an epidemic will occur and I shall be the last survivor, but I’m not sure of the odds on that. The rat has entered the maze.

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