page 11

by beginningstoendings


My class is two hours long; I haven’t done the readings for today which isn’t really a first.  The bottoms of my pants are soaked from the puddles and my hands feel like wet clay.  The rain is picking up now.  I haven’t started my essay, I haven’t written any poetry in ages and I certainly haven’t thought about weird Australian animals.  My G.P.A is steady at a 2.89 and I don’t know what I’m going to do with this degree.  On my way to class I fantasize about what I’d look like if I could design myself.  Tall, slim but curvaceous, jet black hair, tawny skin, grey eyes, and a mellow voice.  I also go over again what I’d wish for if I had three wishes, then what I’d do with 10 million dollars.  I think of what an amazing philanthropist I’d be: beautiful and good.  I’d be the envy of everyone I’d meet.

Walking past the Students Union building I catch a glimpse of myself in the window: rain exposing the thinness of my hair, a complexion touched with acne and broken capillaries and burned with the harsh drug-store brand detergent cleansers I’d used through my teens, a soaking wet camo-green canvas jacket, ugly jeans, an over sized backpack.

I decide to skip class, turn around and head back toward the bus stop.  On the way I look over toward the engineering building but can hardly see it because of the heaviness of the rain, thickening mist and because my vision is so weak.  There’s a haze over my irises from either the weather or from something internal and when I realize this, I make a mental note to use one of my three wishes for perfect vision.  Yeah, I wish.