Vestiges of Dreaming

You compressed yourself and stuck your hand down the back of my pants and I called in a fake emergency call from a stolen cell phone, not really certain why. In class I looked at the grain of my wooden desk and all around my the students groaned, like falling trees, the teachers face was set hard as stone, she left us without a backward glance. There was a dog; I felt responsible when the skin opened up on his haunches, but he didn’t complain. I tried to hold his body together, I could see the underside of his bare flesh, and there was a yellow smell. I carried him in a plastic bag.