Sprung ahead, lost an hour, yet I’ve gained anonymity. Everyone needs a “time-out” now and then. I could list half a dozen reasons, six little things, but what would be the point?
There’s no sense in looking back.
Spring forward … slowly … using tiny baby steps.
When Mr. Talibi, a man of middle eastern origin who worked in his family’s Detroit party store, tip-toes into my classroom some twenty-minutes late and makes accidental eye-contact with yours truly, he speaks in a soft, broken-English sort of way. He says, “I thought we didn’t have school today,” and sensing my displeasure, “when is spring break?” and after a moment of awkward silence, rephrases his question, “we get spring break, don’t we?”
The class waits for my response.
“Oh sure, we get spring break,” I say. “As soon as the maintenance workers dump two truck-loads of sand in the yard …”
“What?”
“… and the food service workers fire-up the grills and tap the kegs …”
“Huh? What are you talking about?”
I raise my voice, “… and the corrections officers escort in bikini clad women for the volleyball tournament.”
He starts smiling. “We could get sponsors.”
“Hell no!” I answer. “We don’t get spring break. This is prison!”
***
You can read my prose in the spring issue of Six Bricks Press. --JR
Hey, JR. I really enjoyed your work at Six Bricks Press. Sorry I'm slow to respond...I'm sort of crawling out from under the rock myself lately. I love how you can say so much in few words. And, as always, your prison story here cracks me up. I probably shouldn't laugh, but the guy in prison who wonders when Spring Break will begin...that's priceless.
ReplyDeleteJR-I did not you were here! Now I've got some catching up to do! I love your ironey!
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