If I had a clear backpack they
might see my Gameboy, or
whatever book I was reading
instead of the required

they might see how seldom
I used my folders, jamming
papers in like
forcing fire

if it rained it might look
like water on a window
on days when classmates with
clear umbrellas came equipped

with their own atmospheres
all docking here. I may
never have gone in
instead I’d lie to my mother

– sometimes I’d take the bus just
to spend all day
walking home –
or try convincing myself

to my father
he would have said
there are so few men
and so many fakes

they are easy to reproduce
and pass off
it’s taken me all my life
but here’s how you tell