today i sat across from someone, over cafeteria trays and paper placemats, talked about oatmeal and anxiety and college majors and our favorite plants, he asked, "what are you doing here? like, why here?"
which seems to be a question i'm confronted with often
when hanging out in grants pass--
(a brief ode is in order, perhaps)
Ohhhhhh, Grants Pass,
how i love the bike lanes on your two one-way main streets,
the community-funded library you support is a testament to perserverance
and to your hatred of taxes.
Oh, let us count the NRA hats,
the $4 biscuit & gravy breakfast deals,
oh, you are exactly what you are,
this town without pretense,
rife with mysteries and interconnected like chainlink
"it's the climate" you proclaim
and i say
it's the moment
and the possibility
it's the land
and the spilt blood
and the biscuits
yeah, there are lots of reasons too,
here i am amid many webs
and also much of my time i spend alone,
not really a lot of "people like me" here
so the funhouse mirrors of every cashier's and sidewalk-walk-er's eyes
mirror back some other exciting anomaly.
i'm 18. i'm a boy. i'm a girl. i'm a hipster. i'm a farmkid. i'm in high school. i'm refined. i'm a traveller. i'm lost. i'm home.
get home,
pet cats,
reclaim self-definition,
start dancing
draw pictures
fall in love again and again
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment