North by Northwestern

You have housed me for so long.
Neatly stitched gingham, with tight seams
lined my sides and protected me.
Black and white saddle shoes
barely cushioned my tentative steps,
bursts of energy.

But there was nothing to guard
my bare knees from the elementary hazards.
My palms, vulnerable but creating a foggy
ghost on the dark wooden desktop.

My grimy hands once clutched your
edges begging for you to let me out.
But you wouldn’t budge.

Were I to shatter your bindings,
I would surely bleed.

So I satisfied my fingers with
geometric wood, painted over with
smooth, comforting yellow.

I tried to keep my graphite markings
within the lines but sweaty palms,
anxious paint-stained fingers are no match
for the whimsical loops of cursive script.