I take a look at myself in the mirror.
For one minute my face reappears.
My mind reenters my body,
flush with my embarrassment.
I stare deep into my pores,
years back before they were dirty and corrupted by hormones and hot air,
to the time of milk and cookies.
California kids yawn.
So used to earthquake drills,
duck under a desk, nonchalantly,
roll call for safety.
Walk to the storage container to see what was inside the emergency lunch box package:
an electric blanket, band-aids, water, dried food.
Roll call for safety.
In case the Earth shakes too much,
remain in the parking lot until the drill finishes at 2.
For no good reason,
somewhere between P.E. and nap time on a Friday,
20 strangers who were 10 years shy of their 18th birthday
6 of their mentors
became a disgusting tragedy.
Connecticut minus 26,
Parents minus children,
a boy minus sense,
how do you nonchalantly prepare for that kind of natural disaster?