Popcorn

I dig a hole into the ground

To get to my old height

So maybe all my childhood friends

Would speak in more than just short texts

Before I knew they talked behind my back

I gather rocks and stones

The talking. The low hum of the trout tank. A few quiet people, me included. The sounds of people being scolded for their behavior at school. The cracking as I crack my fingers. The clickity-clacking of the keys on the keyboard. 

Even your favorite subject can be your hardest.  

Even the "smart ones" will fail. 

Even good grades become futile.  

Even a textbook won't teach you.   

My freshman year was sterile

I was separated, regulated

It smelled of hand sanitizer and soap

The hallways were one way only