I will not miss a place I never wanted to be

But then again…

Life’s all about choices

Speak of the devil

For four years of 180 mornings

We stepped on the Go Greenwave mats

The feeling of feeling safe

Never alone

Inside looking out

the big picture window

The daily “What’s up, Buddy?” from Paul the Janitor

The look of the ashy purple linoleum

The lights that followed us down the middle

of every hallway

The sounds of the hallways

where random lockers are not locked

Down the broken stairs, chipped like broken teeth

To the gym and the tease of the Coke machine

Then to the Green Wave Café

the delicious aroma of Cinnabons

Beyond the first floor sculpture room

where cold clay meets fire crackling kiln

Stuck in a rut of routine

Until the day we leave

And the mice will play