Cutting Class

Sometimes when I start a poem I have no idea where it will take me or what memories will come up. I had no idea this one would jump from cuttng class in high school to a job i had soooo many years later. It's always a journey, maybe not always one I want to be on, but it is a journey.



Cutting Class

She was a freshman that year.
She went off campus with
Some friends from freshman choir.

They weren’t druggies.
Just kids cutting class.

Oh crap! Cops, run for it.
They were busted.

She knew they would call him,
And she was petrified.
What’s your name?
What’s your address?

“Please, I’ll do anything if you don’t call him.”
They didn’t listen.
Everyone’s parents were called.

He’s coming,
Repeated itself inside her head.
She was going to die of fright
before he got there.

There was a mix up.
They sent her back to school,
they never told him.
The anger would be doubled.
“I have got to get out of here,
Don’t you know? Can’t you see?”
No one could see, no one knew,
This hell was all her own.

He finally found her.
“Will you hit me?”
“I would brake your rotten neck!”

She was driving delivering auto parts
For a living when the memory came,
again.
The truck she was driving needed brakes.
She asked her boss, and thought it was no big deal.
The look in his eyes,
The same as in her dad’s
Cold, hard, deadly,
“I’d rather you died
Than spend money on that truck.”
She thought of her dad,
And flinched when her boss came near.
“Will he hit me?” “Ridiculous.”
Before she could explain,
She was fired.