she lives on monday street
its monday and she has monday-itis
all the birds sing backwards
listen….its a looking glass song…
violet brooks goes to school
shes neither here nor there
no one notices when she goes off on her daydreams
its cold in the classroom
the other children are already 100 years old
the teacher what a fool she thinks
as he marches around waving his calculus about
he scribbles things up on a board
he seems to pluck numbers out of the cold thin air
she cant follow this nonsense
“..knowing x cannot be the multiplier…” he blathers on
violet brooks ….
she cant bring her delicate mind to rest on such matters….
what day is this miss brooks ? he suddenly asks
why….its monday sir…its always monday sir…
yes miss brooks …..monday……
they stare at each other
he is in his fifties with his white beard
she still a child
mousy and drab
violet brooks says with her eyes
“oh dear teacher do leave me alone….!”
the teacher seems to read her
in the coldness of the monday winter classroom
he suddenly warms
and an unexpected smile appears upon his angular face
oh violet brooks …he says
do you think juggling these numbers adds up to much for me..?
oh i would much rather describe the flight of a flying horse
the huge feathered wings beating against the blue sky
while its rider holds on for his life
and hastens into the wild beyond
or the sound of the mysteries being celebrated
or the taste of a naiads kiss
yes yes ! said violet brooks’ eyes
tell us about these things
but….and the teacher sighed sadly
and the children wondered at his sudden melancholy
but…said the teacher
staring out the window
his grey eyes all unfocussed
but….he said a third time
and everything was silent in that room
in other rooms around them
in the playgrounds outside
in the halls n corridors
they could still hear the other children
but as if from a distance
the teacher gazed longingly out the window
it was beginning to snow
snow whispered the children so silently
the teacher watched the flakes swirling down
the year when you were 10
it was always monday…remember….?
a mouse could be heard scratching n quietly squeaking in the walls
the teacher turned and looked at violet brooks
outside… her eyes said to his…outside…..
the teacher snapped his fingers n beckoned the class
they took their coats from their pegs
and they walked out into the gentle snow
out of the school
they walked
down the street and out of the town
into the great forest that leads down to the sea
and they found a nice place
and they stopped
and took out their thermos flasks n their sandwiches
sat down under a great oak tree
dear students…the teacher began
look at this empiric world
test its realities
turn quickly to catch it out
get up early in the morning before it manifests itself
the numbers are important
somehow it all joins up somewhere
but no one knows exactly how or why…
violet brooks asked : but why is it always monday….?
ah miss brooks ….he said
monday represents the end of sunday
the day of rest
the day of peace
the day of sun
monday was ever the saddest day
monday monday cant trust that day
tell me why i dont like mondays
its monday……
oh monday morning
the snow fell outside the little clearing
where the pupils all were eating their lunches
the branches overhead were interwoven like a roof
violet brooks said
i dream of a sun drenched saturday
i’m down by the beach and the sea is turquoise
and all the bathing suits are crimson and mauve and leaf green
and the hair is all blonde and the tans are all golden
i dream of beach shacks filled with lava lamps n pineapple juice
i dream of long walks by the shore
i dream of the clouds in shapes of woodland creatures
i dream of a bucket of sand and my own little crab
i dream of looking in vivid rockpools
i dream of an ice block on a stick…
here she seemed to pause
imagine it….said one child
yes …said a second….i do…
violet brooks began again
out in the real world its thursday
our teacher is writing this all down on a little machine
others read it on their machines
theoretical people
virtual people
all unknown to each other mainly
they turned to the teacher
is this true? they demanded
he looked down at the tangled roots and the fallen leaves
he saw a squirrel in a tree
he saw a mushroom quietly growing
a plane flew overhead
monday airport
monday flight
monday specials
monday motel
monday meetings
the world stretched out n on
he could never hope to encompass so many lives
he looked at the students
go
he said
i release you all
go to saturday
walk in the sun
return to golden times
he had no more but finished saying these words when
he looked around and
saw all the children gone
but violet brooks
i will stay in monday she said
until all the children here are free
she turned n walked away through the trees
the teacher waited for a while
watching her go and then
he turned n walked
in the opposite direction
towards the mighty crashing sea