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This writing was accepted for publication in the 108-page perfect-bound ISSN#/ISBN# issue/paperback book “Not There Anymore” cc&d, v331 (the March 2023 issue) Order the 6"x9" paperback book:

Order this writing in the book a Mural of a Forest the cc&d Jan.-April 2023 magazine issues collection book		get the 426 page Jan.-April 2023 cc&d magazine 6" x 9" ISBN# perfect-bound paperback book:

Not There Anymore

Sean Simpson

I hear the alarm going off,
I get up, wash my face, and brush my teeth,
Just as I was taught,
Bright white lights bounce off red and green baubles,
The cookies are gone, crumbs are everywhere
I run to the tree and wildly tear into the wrapping paper,
A Gameboy, a bike, and a note.
It tells me what I already know,
That I’ve been good, and my parents love me.
I’m safe and warm on Christmas day.

I enter the class and look around,
I take the time to look around
Everything is fluorescing
Every color pops out at me,
I notice my name written on a DayGlo green cubby
I put my spiderman backpack away, just as I was taught
I search for a seat,
Where do I sit?
The class looks at me
My ears get hot, my hands sweat,

I see a kid who looks like me,
The same black and yellow Batman shirt as me,
I pick the seat next to him,
He hands me a pencil,
I ask him to be my friend.

But I’m not there anymore.

I hear screaming to my left,
but I look forward, just as I was taught.
I’m holding the shit green duffel above my head
In front of a bleak brick building,
Its filled with promises,
Self-improvement, pride, and resilience.
Most importantly it promises three meals a day and a warm enough bed.
But now, I lack sleep, and my arms are screaming to give up,
Five drill sergeants, pressed uniforms, and starched brown rounds, come at me
They surround me, so close their hats are touching,
They are all shouting conflicting commands and questions,
I answer them each in turn,
Proudly unflappable, my arms gain new strength
Maybe I can do this.
A drill sergeant pushes me over, my tired legs give out and my face hits the floor,
Maybe not.

I enter the field and take my place in line,
The drill sergeants count out repetitions
“30 seconds remaining”
Then its my turn, I get in the front leaning rest,
“Ready, get set, begin”
The rocky ground beneath my face gets closer and further, closer, and further
The drill sergeant isn’t counting my pushups out loud.
I have no idea how many I’ve done,
My chest feels like its tearing,
My shoulders want to give out,
But I keep pushing,
Was that number 24 or 30?
I push faster as the seconds past
My lungs are on fire,
My body wants to quit,
“30 seconds remaining”
I stretch my back and try to push harder and faster than before,
“Five, Four”
I get a burst of new energy,
I’m pushing because I can’t go home,
I’m pushing because this will save me,
“Stop”
I collapse and ask the drill sergeant how many I’ve done,
102, I can stay.
I never knew what I was capable of.

I see a crowd that looks like me,
All standing side by side, proudly
Black jackets and blue pants,
We stand at attention as we shout the creed
I am, finally, an American soldier.

But I’m not there anymore.

I hear the alarm going off in the distance.
I hit the dirt and run to the bunker
Every step I take leaves a mushroom cloud of grey dust
I get to the bunker and admire the artwork,
My cement Sistine
My dull grey chapel of dicks and gay jokes
I wait for the all-clear. Just as I was taught.

I kick in the door of the mud brown building.
I check the corners as I enter, its dark inside
I take in everything I can and watch the hallway to avoid any surprises,
A cacophony of gunfire rings out in the background,
Beautiful chaos, then an indecisive silence,
What happened to my security?

I see a man who looks like me,
Skin of bronze, hair of lambswool
I see his eyes, he sees mine
I raise my rifle; he fumbles for his.
Point and shoot, just as I was taught.
The other me falls.

But I’m not there anymore.

I hear an alarm going off in the distance.
I hit the floor, and look for the bunker
I look for my cement sanctuary,
The chapel of dicks and gay jokes,
Where is the bunker?
Why am I running?

I enter the room and scan the corners,
I don’t like surprises
A threat enters the room
What happened to my security?
My fight or flight is always fight,
My body reacts,
Brain in the background
She dodges like prize fighter,
Just as she’s been taught,

I stand in the bathroom and see a man that looks like me,
Hair like me, face like me, just like me,
I raise my arm, he raises his,
I fake a smile, so does he,
I ask him who he is, I get no response.

But I don’t want to be here anymore,
I don’t want to be me anymore
And I don’t want to be anymore.

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