My English class got paired up with a class from the University.
While everyone's partners had the appearance of being "normal"
My partner sat in the back of the class wearing bright red ripped nylons
With cowboy boots with curly cotton candy hair
With a body language that spoke
    "*******"
She was only 23 and smelled like an old Denny's restaurant

Her breath was the stench of her smoker's only section
Battling against the stench of her caffeine addiction.
While I was asking her questions about life
And how everyone including the voice in the back of my head
Tells to get a conventional job
She poured out nicotine into a slip of paper
Like how I just poured out my questions on life outta my lips
She said through licking and concealing her hand built cigarette
"KID! Stop thinking what others think for you.
For your age, the best plan is not having one.
Now do you want to go outside with me while I smoke this?"

And I realized, ****, I don't have a plan.
So many kids my age are so quick to bash Tucson
They've already mapped out the quickest route outta here
Created a 5-year plan to get rich, and have been keeping
They're "*******'s and see ya later's" in their back pocket
Since they turned 18.
And I'm still hung up on the homework I forgot to do,
last week.

One of my friends told me a story how her mother
Followed her passion to be a hairdresser
How her mother tells her stories of the good old days
And used to be so happy. And that her mother gave it all up
For a better paying job in order to take care of her.
Now my friend wants to go to college and make lots of money
And be just like her mother -- unhappy.
I actually broke down and started crying at the lunch table
Because she so obviously didn't learn the lesson
She so obviously didn't notice how her mom sacrificed
Her passion in order for her to chase hers.
I told her she didn't get it.
She told me I didn't get the "real world."

So yeah, maybe I don't
Maybe I like to believe in real-passion
And the real-meaning and purpose of an education
Ya, maybe I don't know what I want to do with my life
Maybe I'm not done exploring Tucson
Or maybe I am immature
Because my plan of not having a plan
Is what excites me the most
I've planned for 18 years for what I'm going to do
To get me to that day I graduate
And I haven't even spent a good hour thinking
What I'm going to do every day after.
I don't need to keep a ******* in my back pocket
I'm not tying myself down to any plans
I'm rearranging the sentence, "F You Tucson"
And I'm just trying to say
"Tucson, I'm getting reading to finally meet you"

If Tucson molds me into the poetry loving
Preaching to kids, kinda hippie I already am
Or if I just become a waiter my whole life, trying to get people to buy my book
Or maybe college will make me even hate books
Maybe not having a plan is a mistake,
But maybe, if I make enough mistakes
One of those mistakes will be something really really great.
And I really, really can't wait.