this is a freewrite
the mirror is getting loud
and there is snow in the forecast,
so please,
stop reminding me
that i've had to do this
a hundred times before
she'll explain
from the vanity
we've had more than our
fair share of
"mature decisions,"
i don't remember
being a child.
i don't remember balloons
or streamers,
or bedtime stories,
and i want it back.
i'm tired of growing up,
and i'm sorry
it was at your expense.
i'm not a kid.
i can't fly.
i always knew that:
it's why i run so fast,
and soon enough,
when the chill gets stern,
i'll yardstick the winter
with my shins,
and we'll see how much taller
my endurance gets
this time.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment