finally, everything died. if i'd known then where things would stand almost twelve years later, perhaps i would have found some modicum of comfort. but then again, i would likely be an entirely different person, and i'm too proud of who i am now to want to go in for that bargain.
this is the first of what became an unintentional series of three poems that i wrote in college. as i sat back and read these this morning, i could still feel the uncomfortable shedding of childhood mingle with the grating assumption of adulthood in the series.
I don’t know. Maybe five or ten years from now, wherever I am, I’ll remember sitting here, playing with the bobby pin that had been lying on my dinner table.