My backpack looks forlorn.
Maybe because it is full of unwanted responsibility.
Notebooks send furtive glances my way.
They clearly scream, “Use us! Please? Just a note or two!”
And the cool, smooth desktop does not forgive
the long absences for homework procrastination.
But my chair is warm and comfortable
(someone’s on my side)
and I imagine the desk away.
I dream of times sans desolate desktops,
eras without waiting assignments.
I envision hot, wet air. It is palpable.
It weighs me down
(like my neglected homework)
and glosses every inch of skin with sweat.
I see greenery. Everything is green.
And damp, like me.
An inviting breeze blows through the trees to my left.
I turn to face it, relishing the relief from the heat.
Yanking a foot from the muddy mire beneath me
I plod in that direction, arms outstretched, each finger extended
grazing feathery ferns and thick, parchment petals,
relieving them of their dew.
I cross a stream, glittering with sunlight
where a simple stegosaurus stops for a sip.
I pass a triceratops taking a tour around a clearing
filled with torridly pink flora.
Stepping softly through a curtain of vines
I emerge on the other side
And I am at once aware that I am as soaked as though the vines were a waterfall
and I am face to face
with rows and rows
of large, sparkling razors.
Those are just teeth.
Just… tyrannosaur teeth. And tyrannosaur breath
which gushes out of his mouth
against my face
as he tries to smell me out.
I am not being subtle.
My forehead is twice as damp as it was before I noticed
I was about to be somebody’s lunch
and I can smell my own armpits.
Presently, he slaps me with that slimy, smelly tongue.
And I know it is all over.
His head whips back,
I kiss my ass goodbye,
and right before I’m snapped in half
like an overcooked fish stick,
I wake up.
And I am in my chair.
And the only rampaging T-rex I am likely soon to see
is my Professor
upon learning of my extensive neglect
of her classwork.