Monday, January 18, 2016

The Substitute

He doesn't want me following him around.
He wants his old teacher back and lets me know by
asking for him every morning
when I'm there
instead.
He's looks down at me,
disgusted,
like an old man being forced
to take medicine
and begins to walk
so fast I'm taking giant steps
to keep up.
He prefers to keep me several steps  behind
but slows down when
she comes by.

We are safer together,
bunched up.
She's going to pick on us.
It's the same every time.

"Look at me!"
"Look me in the eye."
"Stop walking on your toes. Stand up straight."

That's our daily greeting,
not "Good Morning. How are you today?"

He does it, though.
No complaints.
He looks her in the eye,
and they go through the routine until finally,
she's gone.

Then, he's back on his toes
and the space between us widens
again.