To Where You Are

I am 
coming to where you are. 
My feet swing underneath the desk
too short to hit the floor
and they catch on the metal bar beneath the chair.
My legs pretend not to ache from sitting.
My fingers pretend not to be doodling instead of taking notes.
My brain pretends not to be in other places 
while my eyes are trained on the whiteboard
looking at the letters but not reading them.
My heart pretends to be brave 
while a list is mentally written in my head
and I draw swirly hearts on my textbook.
Who will get this book next?
Who has gotten this book before?
Sometimes I find places underlined 
and small notes taken at the corners of pages
giving away what you thought the answer was.
Did you sit in class like me?
Zoned out and worried about the places you might never go
but maybe you went. 
Maybe you're there right now beckoning me to come with you
telling me that I'm almost there 
that I can do this
I can conquer my world that is in a classroom
to find yours
somewhere in a rainforest 
with monkeys and yellow birds 
and the sound of rain drops dripping
and frogs chirping 
I want to be where you are.     
I want to leave my world behind to find yours and
You -- after you've taken this course 
after everything you've learned
I like to think it went to use
but how do I get to you?
How do I pass this course?
How do I get through midterms unscathed,
through finals,
another year...
How can I call out to you when you're so far away?
The teacher smiles at my desk.
"You like to draw?" she asks sweetly in Spanish.
"Yeah," I start, trying to think of something to say
but instead I look down at my desk
check that my homework is complete
and plan my journey to you.
I am coming to where you are. 
This poem is about: 
Our world


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