Breaking day

down into odd increments. Went to bed at daybreak and dusk. At the liminal moments of light, I faded into sleep. After all night St. A’s elections I rode my bike home. The fringe of sky lightened. In one glimpse, the green light on Harkness went out. As dawn broke, I closed my shutters and eyes. Tangled up in covers and dreams, Bob Dylan blue burst from my alarm clock two hours later. A cup of coffee for the road (I drink coffee now, a mixture of even parts coffee and skim, mornings), and on to Milton section, Lycidas. I borrow Dr. Schiller’s wisdom to speak, mine’s still asleep. Reader-response critiques of line breaks melt into lines of charge and their magnetic fields. After physics, I grab food and go to Wexler-Grant elementary school where I tutor Wednesday and Thursday afternoons. I meet my three girls, Capria, Aaliyah, and Donyae, to take them out for a treat. Fourth-graders, we talk television shows and Valentine’s crushes. Picking out free books at the book bank, proprietorship’s joy combines with a wish to please me and an almost-interest in reading. They appear excited to find and open books. Over pizza, they sing and explain to me the difference between how black and white people behave in restaurants. At Sterling Memorial Library, I accidentally ruin its romance by telling the building dates from 1930, not the 16th century gothic it goes for. They get a kick out of a frozen fountain formed by fish spouting from between cherubic boys' legs. We walk back to their school and the problem child holds my hand. Not that next week will be easy, but her behavior seems simple proof everyone only wants a little attention to be, at least temporarily, ok. At 5 o'clock, I give girls over to their parents and retreat to Stiles, sink into bed as sun sets.