Struggling, seeking, sorting, salvaging:
No Saint to Save—
Building, breaking, blaming, bandaging:
No Bliss to Miss—
That I’ll get better, that you’ll get better,
That we’ll really try this time and stomp down rain-slicked streets like we own them
Instead of scurrying through desolate alleyways like frightened children
Hopelessly lost and without umbrellas, nails bitten, and nerves shot
Our way back home lost the second we stepped out of the door
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I’m tired of taking the train that always arrives,
the one that doesn’t halt in a blizzard for you to meet his eyes,
the drifting snow covers all of the signs.
Plans are Meant to Flow Like Water off a Duck’s Back
When I had that little talk with my HOPS advisor, I laughed at the idea that I would need to rethink anything about my plans. I mean I was already 28, so I felt like did not have time to waste. Well, as usual in life, nothing went according to those plans.