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5 am
going to school
It is morning now,
I hear twirling sounds coming
from somebody’s chimney. Not mine.
The dusty streets are swallowed
by the smell of fresh made
country bread. Not mine.
Cruel. Poor. Dirty.
Obnoxiously squeaky beds saying
“Five minutes more!” Not mine.
My windowless classroom
is waiting for me,
for tea, “With sugar, please!”
like in movies.
“You are wet, ugly and late!
page 45, first row start reading!”
Page after page I give my soul,
cheap memories and a glass of
hot morning milk. Not mine.
The matressless room and the salty snow,
tinted with red by my big
Jewish-like bleeding nose; Are mine.
Only mine. Mine only.
We have a 15 minutes break now,
I’ll wait for the snow to melt,
Thirst, forgive me,
I beg you.
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