I go to school on Monday and everyone in my school is an idiot. I’m probably one of those idiots to all the other kids that think the same thing. But everyone in my classes is weird (me) and dumb. This one girl asked what a root word was and I wanted to leave or vomit but I just laughed and everyone looked at me including the parents because it was open house. And I have all this great flannel but I can’t wear it because it’s hot as hell here. Ok teenage angst and anger and whatever go away you’re not welcome here.
I’d like to be with you in the summer
in the winter
in the fall
but spring I shall keep to myself.
Do you fancy me as a person, you asked.
no. I fancy you not as a person, but as a poem. A poem I read in school but pretended to hate, because no one likes poetry. I fancy you as a painting in a museum I don’t really understand, but I pay the entrance fee with the last of my money to go stand in front of it for hours. As lyrics to a song in another language I’ve never heard. But never as a person
and it’s sad. because I’ve never seen the sky change colors. But
it was okay because my neurologist told me I had a beautiful mind, if function is
what we’re talking about. But function was never good enough for you. You needed
something to have a purpose and a meaning. I’d sit outside, exposed, puffing an
American Spirit and you’d tell me to come inside because it all meant nothing.
And I’d laugh and you’d nuzzle my side and we’d, for a moment, revert to something.
My mom would come in a blue minivan to pick me up, and you’d ask me not to leave,
but you never stopped me, when I walked out your front door in nothing but
a pair of Birkenstocks.
Thoughts scattered across the wall
I’ve never been so dead.
I’ve never been so alive.
I’ve never been such nothing.
My mother and grandmother talk about all the people from where my mom calls home. My sister texts her boyfriend and scowls in the corner, while cooing over the puppy. My grandpa talks to me about politics and makes corny jokes over coffee while we all try to act like this is how we’d prefer to spend a sunday afternoon. When really my mom would like to be sleeping. And my sister would like to shop. And my grandma would like to sit. And my grandpa would like to walk a long walk. And I’d like to be with you.