The New School

I saw it being built on the sacred burial ground of a field I had died nobly upon many a time. Dark girders arose riveted to the skyline, ashen boned concrete walls constructed by unseen hands. I still looked to the green field where, as Custer I had made my many 'last stands' yet it, like my naivety, was being erased. I dreamed that I was a dog chained to the school's bicycle rails. Inside the new school demented teachers screeched through split nails, yammering edicts at small cringing minds. When they installed the glass and painted the new school building, a foreboding stole upon me. My scalp tingled, I knew that the arrow in my eye was going to be pushed a lot further inward one day.