• At Twenty and Two


    “I’m twenty two, but I don’t think I’m young. I think you mature the moment you know what you want to do.”—from a man who posed for Humans of New York, an FB page

    at twenty two i wanted it all:
    to be lithe, limber like a ballerina
    who can do stretches on the barre
    to lengthen arms, legs, feet

    i wanted to sing, carry a tune
    to its inevitable end
    without losing my breath
    and the all-important melody

    i wanted to jet it to NYC,
    live in a shoebox maybe
    sell cosmetics at bergdorf goodman
    while drafting a novel on off hours

    i wanted to parse lines, stanzas
    but was always running out
    of subjects except for
    a young adult’s despair
    over having youth, strength,
    readiness but near-zero
    experience and hurts

    now that i’m closer to death
    or illness or disability before death
    i just live for a glance of sunrise
    or moon rise, a probable heaven,
    for sips of coffee,
    the occasional wine,
    the mandatory green tea
    but in my dreams
    i’m twenty two
    wanting and praying


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