Summer had just ended. I had just started 5th grade after the Labor Day weekend. All of my classmates were, one by one getting up in front of class and reading their requisite "What I did last summer" story. I of course whom had a pechant for not doing silly wastefull things like homework, had no such report to give.
Who has the time for homework when you have a Donald Duck impression to work on and war scenes to draw.
So when I got up to give my report, I held a few oddly blank pages... I stood in the front of class and the tension built a few beats.
"What I did on my summer vacation. by Jade Bos
I got drunk and I fell down..."
My 5th grade teacher, Jean Claudon, had very long and sharp finger nails, I remember thinking over the din of laughter as she drug me out into the hall - she shook me like a muppet and she had this hot & spitting breath. Over the years I would come to know many a shaking woman with hot spitting breathe - that and the tear red vibrantly alive eyes - like somekinda betrayed magical animal that was beyond all comprehension - they seemed to be looking for something and thought I might have it or be keeping them from it... but I guess I always kept it well hide - red heart in a dense black tangle.
Glimpses - dreams - a clearing in the forest
a simple quiet moment
bouldless joy
for no reason at all