my aunt,
my beautiful aunt,
my hippie aunt.

the one who gave me a jar of sand and shells and whispered, "don't ever open it, or else the whole sea will spill out".

my aunt who smokes joints and offers it to the birds.
the one who sings on mountain tops, and tells me about her trips.
"i could hear my skin cells whisping past one another",
'parmel gantry they said, parmel gantry i echoed'.

the one who told me her whole existence is based on the fact that a furniture truck delivered a sofa to the wrong house.

my aunt who said when her daughter was young,
14 maybe, she would sneak off and see maryjane.

she said she was on her way to Woodstock,
but her brother, her brother was a cop in new york,
and he 'kidnapped' her,
told her "no, the closest you'll get to those ***** hippies is through this television in the attic."

"but he made me dinner every night, it was wonderful" she said,
"i hadn't seen him in years, we really bonded."

"i had a scholarship to upenn, he didn't want me to lose it"
but she dropped out one week in and moved to oregon.

she married on a commune, and her housemates threw rose petals on the only bed there.

and when that was over, she married another by the same name.

and i've never seen someone laugh so much.
i've never seen someone so happy, so genuinely happy.

i don’t know why i’m still here, honestly.
i mean, my rooms not clean,
there’s a stain on my jeans
and i barely know how to work the washing machine.
i’m fifteen. i’m a teenager.
in a few years, i’ll be choosing a major
at a college i’m not completely sure i want to attend,
like upenn, columbia, yale, or brown…?
thinking about it makes me want to drown.

but only figuratively, not actually.
because nobody really means what they say anymore,
like “of course i got your text,”
or “yes! i definitely remembered your birthday was tomorrow”
or “yeah, i’m only five minutes away,”
or “i love you.”

i don’t know why i’m still here, honestly.
i mean, i’m an academic burnout.
in ballet, i didn’t have the best turnout.
i was never even a girl scout.
my mom said when in doubt, always tell the truth.
okay. sure.
i can do that, at least i thought i could.
i did, up until the point where i couldn’t tell where the truth ended and the lies began.
i said the tears in my eyes were just allergies.
i began to realize i was running out of energy.
everything i did, i did haphazardly.
looking back, i wonder if it was even reality.

low battery, my phone continues to tell me.
and honestly, i don’t know why i’m still here
because i lose everything.
i still can’t find my charger.
my classes are getting harder,
and at this point, i’m highly considering just becoming a farmer.
but i already know that’s out.
i mean, lets be honest
no amount of plants can get me the money that scholarship grants can.
maybe...maybe i should just become a doctor.
you know, perform transplants, give implants.
with all that money,
i could take a trip to france!
sometimes, i’d rather be there than here.
other times, i feel like i should just...disappear.

but it’s not even that serious,
i mean for the most part,
me being quiet is just me being mysterious.
other people might even call me delirious
due to my lack of experience in this
brand new job that
goes by the name of ‘life’.
i said it already. i’m a teenager.
i don’t even know why i’m still here.
and if i’m being honest,
i don’t think any of us do.

i want to be everything all at once forever
— casually, like: **** dude, they said you could be president, too? i’ll rock paper scissors you for it
i **** at rock paper scissors, but i **** more at sticking with things that only make me ½, ⅓, ¼ happy
not to mention things i’m bad at but do you even know how good i am at a subject you don’t teach?
columbia, harvard, princeton, yale, brown, dartmouth, upenn, and cornell do
they just don’t know they do, so shhh. i wrote someone else’s name on those essays
i don’t care who knows mine, i’m just trying to keep it out of the obituaries
just one more year ‘till i’m too old to die young
— but who’s counting?
not me, not me, not me.

A corporal on his embarkation leave
Encounters a girl: “Tell me, what’s your name?”
She smiles and replies on that summer eve
“Tell me no lies and I’ll tell you the same.”

          The congressman’s son is on the rowing team

They stroll along a San Diego pier
Where the old museum ships lie in repose
She has a coffee; he orders a beer
From a vendor he buys her a pretty rose

          The President’s son is a UPenn man

They flirt over an order of burgers and fries
A soldier-boy so handsome and so young -
The women of the plains will gouge out his eyes
The lads from the hills will cut out his tongue

          And the senator’s boy is a Harvard man