Lost and Found

When the kids in the back of the bus all stand up and start freaking out about something, usually they don't sit down until I physically go back there and figure out what's going on and how I can save the day. Today, one of the littlest apparently had been chewing on a paper towel and it must have been ripped from his playful jaws, for the surge of attention today was directed at a suddenly bloody hole in his gums. He lost a tooth. His mouth hung open, wider than his shocked eyes. I asked if he wanted a paper towel and he nodded absently, drool gathering, eyebrows furrowing, mind preoccupied with where his missing tooth could be. I got him a new, clean paper towel to collect the drool with and I ordered the show to be over and pockets to touch the seats and faces forward. We were off. When the kids were dropped off, and the bus parked in its cozy spot, and I was sweeping, I noticed that the high schooler that had brought a box of Nerds on the bus hadn't gotten them all in her mouth, and every pink one caught my eye, in case the little one's tooth was perhaps slightly bloody. A couple seats into the sweep I saw a tiny rounded rectangle in the corner. I slipped it into my pocket and continued sweeping up surprising amounts of nerds, random beads and lots of paper bits, but gratefully, no bloody, drooly paper towel. I have prepared a gift for the little one, for when he boards the bus tomorrow morning. He will be one tooth richer, although still one tooth down . . .




Also today I had an exciting thought. How cool would it be to have a traveling board meeting, where all your business was discussed around a fine table, sitting in cushy chairs -- all bolted to the open trailer bed behind a big rig, cruising down the highway at 70 mph? Paper weights would be your most valued office accessory. And a good hair scrunchy, for girls.

Empty

Just a girl in her empty boat
Floating hardly beyond the rocks,
Ocean licking, looking for a way in.
Without a paddle the waves steer
Her and her half walnut shell
Along nutcracker cliffs.
She lays her body in the bottom,
Palms pressed into the side
Of her empty boat.
From a wood-framed view
She sees clouds in the sky
Pitching to and fro
Turning darker, churning.
Their juices spill on her skin
And the ocean spits on her clothes.
Eyes closed she does not see
The rock that wounds the wood,
Ocean bleeding into her bed,
Emptiness filling
From above and below.
Body pressed and still,
Water replaces air
In her empty boat.
The flood tries to refill
The dry riverbed of tears
Mapped upon her cheeks
Pooling gently on lidded eyes
Until the wet wraps her whole.
Eyes open she can see
What a fish must see
When it looks to the rim
Of its empty bowl
Filled with water.
She watches the ocean surface
Blend into the sky
Until water replaces air
In her empty lungs.
Welcomed to the calm ocean floor
Just the girl in her empty boat.



(note to those who may worry: this is not a literary reflection of my personal inner workings at this time.
Another note: I will be submitting certain pieces of writing to that Touchstones magazine at my school again, and I'd like to have your editorial notations and suggestions for any of my more recent musings into poetry, What's Mine is Yours, Crackers, See Through, and About Time. And please, if you have suggestions for this one, Empty, please make your notes! And tell other people you know that like to read to read them too and make their comments, because I don't have an editor, so you will be my eyes and ears to what I don't see or hear 'off' with my pieces. For example, I already think with this Empty piece, that I might delete the first line or the last two lines, or change some of the words throughout. So as you can see I'm open to your suggestions! Thanks beautiful readers!)