NaPoWriMo – Day 12
Dawn dream,
Hallways, doors, some guy I crushed on vanished.
Where is he? Behind door number one, door number two,
door number three—oh, there’s Mom wagging
her finger. “Live here if you want to live
in sin.” I shudder. Dead seven years, yet
she’s still scolding.
I lean over wall, scan the massive intertwined
staircases for a top or bottom step. Groggy headed,
yank myself from sleep, from the realm
of disorientation. Snooze button’s been blaring
for an hour.
