Classmates. Facebooks from a past future
when we still knew who we would become.
You recognize faces that no name remembers,
or vice versa. Most are much fatter now.
They have children they would never have,
and labor hours from the industrial era.
The principal with his Barbie-Ken smile
caught you off guard, smoking again.
The teacher who said that you could excel,
but harbored a serious lack of purpose.
They were right. You have no bearings here.
The bell sounds and you scream for the door.