My insides are all rustled up.
That internal migration pull
of elsewhere travel adventure.

I'm getting sick of it here,
turns out I'm not all that bright.

My horoscope says I should tell him I love him;
I think I just might.
we can up and run away
Together.

My footing here is so uncertain
I think I might just jump;
I don't want to look back at this place
that laughs in my face.

I've been getting sicker
skinnier
if you missed me

I’m old enough to know but
too young to know better
the state says I’m an adult as of May
but I still don’t know what I want to be
when I grow up,
except for still carrying around my Blankie.

Teddy Bear holds up the pipe to my lips
I can’t do it on my own, I’m not so good at this,
he says breathe deep Baby, I’ve got you.
The fuzz on his face is rough when he kisses the top of my head.

Taj and Tibby walk in holding hands
“Baby!” he smiles and leans down to kiss me
“Hey little one” she says and hugs me tight.
Lauren and Luke come out of their room and
give me big smiles.
Everyone is glad I am home and I exhale
grey smoke because I am glad too.

I am the baby, but I am also the best cook.
While I clang pots in the kitchen my man pours
champagne and turns on the new speakers.
Chicken Piccatta for dinner, because when
you feed people, it’s the best way to tell them
you love them.

The flimsy laminate floors are sticky,
the practically cardboard walls are dusty,
the room like a cave is dark even with the blinds cracked open
but Taj makes us laugh and we dance to the music.
Kitchen table cleared of drug paraphernalia
becomes the flimsy garage-sale/side-of-the-road version
of the dinner table I grew up with.
The people crowded onto its edges
a kind of family.

Every body's ******* about one-day-outta-the-year,
but I like to be your little princess for a night
when you open up all my doors,
pair the steak with the exact right bottle of wine
and we finish off the entire thing.
Chocolate mousse, made with love,
an entire pile of romantic movies to pick from
while you stare at me adoringly across the
immaculate
candle lit
apartment that's finally clean! (just for me)
Then Brazilian jazz in a bubble bath,
(you thought of every little thing)
I lean back into you, feeling your lips rest on my hairline.
You said we should do this more often.
Then I gave you a Santa bubble beard
we took pictures
and we laughed hysterically in the light of a candle.
It's how I know, before and after it all that
**** it
(I love you.)
The trick is slipping it into conversation.

Everyone is sick of raves except for you.
When you painted your face like a tigers
you forgot that your soul has to match.
My soul matches my face.
I left you behind too, I’ve left so many behind,
I don’t know where I’m going.
You were dead weight but
I miss you
anyhow.

I think I outgrew you a while ago.
We spent seven years close but
everything changes
and I don’t want to fight but
everything changes.

I do feel bad that we don’t talk as much.
Our worlds are too different now
to have anything to talk about.
I know you look down on my
not-an-ivy-league college
but you’re with your peers now
and I’m happy with mine. Yes you’re
brilliant with books. Not so brilliant
with human beings.
You will go on to be more successful than your mother
like she pushed you to be,
but you're still looking for your
happiness.
I’m a little different, a little opposite.
Not so brilliant with books, I’d rather be with my
human beings.
I know in my heart where I’ll find my happiness
one day, and I assure you it will not be
in some grey forty story office building
still wondering why
your ex boyfriend at age seventeen
decided to kiss me under the slide
at the neighborhood park
while he was trying to forget about you.

That doesn’t feel so great for me either
being a rebound.

But at least I’ll have lived my life
and I’ll have no questions or regrets
my garden will be full of flowers.
Let’s keep disagreeing, because
I won’t let myself become so
angry.

All I can say:
I'm glad you're not gone
yet.