“She never made it as a teacher” (a sad song about somebody maybe)

This is new, and I have many conflicting emotions about it. Seldom do I get a final line that reads so much like a final line; still, the tale of “her” isn’t finished. I’d love to hear any thoughts you may have. This piece is a bit of a departure for me, so I really don’t know if I’m doing things well.

***

She never made it as a teacher

Because she liked the meth too much,

And mornings suck

When they happen

At the same time every day.

She had loved the kids,

She did, oh yeah;

So many of them

Mini morons, so eager

To nod their heads

And say “oh yeah”

and to give that knowing chuckle

that says, “I know where you’re coming from.”

But none of them knew

much of anything anyway,

least of all her,

but she did when things were good though,

when it worked,

because she was a bigger version of her,

a super her,

a knowing her

an insightful her,

and she knew that if she could just get them all to…

to…

to…

to listen.

If they would all just listen.

But they wouldn’t, and

she didn’t make it as a teacher,

and she wound up doing whatever,

still showing up at the same haunts

and trying to put on

the mask of a woman she once was.

I’ll see her on the street occasionally,

and she always looks as if it’s winter.