Catbird Seat

I’ve become so accustomed
to the chair that I almost welcome
the slow slide into the permanent
divot left there by so many
delinquent asses before mine.
The problem now is the floor.
Specifically, the problem is that
Sam has replaced a tile here
and there and has broken up
the checkerboard pattern.
The replacement tiles are a soapy
green. Sam would have done
better to get the exact same
tiles. Conversely, he might have
ripped out the tiles that weren’t
chipped or cracked and replaced
them with the soapy green tiles
so as to preserve the pattern.
Does he know how many kids
sit here and try to distract
themselves by studying
the floor? It’s all I can do to
stem the fear roiling inside
of me. I do not yet have the
means to effectively argue
my case, or even consider
what my case might be. For
now, it’s the tiles over what
I figured out to say to Sister
Marie, years after the fact:

Even Jesus lost His temper that time in the temple.

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