25 cents

I always just...

stop. stop this now.

You made the hole

you took the shovel

and you made the hole.

You bought daffodils

you took your time

you dallied you

thought this day

would never come when

you would have to

grow up, face the

sun and hit the

wall.

You asked for them

to let you,

fall, thinking, hoping

that you were never

going to be the

kind of person who

tumbled.

as if you

were special, were

different from the

status quo of other

quarter century

beings lost in

a crowd of crows

picking at the

remnants of a hopeless

future,

after the crops of

university knowledge

failed.

and now, in this

coffee shop where

you wait for

tips, you remember that

you once wished for

anything but

the tracks you

were in.

the ones for your

career, that you were

so weary of.

before even

starting.

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