In Chalk

Both of us write with chalk all the time. We're teachers. Chalk is an occupational hazard. Five days a week, Brian and I come home with white, chalky patches on our clothes. Some days I see a whole hand print of chalk on his pants from where he rested his own hand. Meanwhile, I've spent whole afternoons with a white smudge mark on my chin. A woman in a store once pointed it out to me when I was waiting to check out.
"You have something on your face," she said.
"Oh God..." I said. Then I when I saw the white residue on my hands, I added "I'm a teacher," and smiled weakly.

But on Saturday, for the first time in years, I was happy to see chalk.

So, here it is everyone, Short Punks (minus "the Love") in chalk.