Olivia

16

Lofty Goals and Epiphanies

Should I be ready for a new year
in the middle of summer?
A question
I may never remember
Should I hold aloft
the memories of travel?
A thought
I may never realize
Should I try something new
like food and company?
A test
I may never pass
Nary a word passed my lips
before it's censured
Not by my ensemble
but by an idea
that perhaps, I should think
Of what? Of what I forgot
How do you know? How do you not?
Maybe it's gone? Maybe it's caught?
I could run,
not away but forever toward a goal
I could fly,
not in a plane but always toward a wish
I could speak,
not of words simply, but of ideas and exhibits
and drawings and philosophy and of dreams and
of memories of knowledge of interests of
hopes of thoughts of feelings of plans of
opportunities
I sit back
I read my words
I realize I'm sitting down
I think about why I sit hunched over
like a hench
I smile, I giggle my little giggle
What am I thinking about?
About how my brain turns to mush in a few months
and how I should be listening to rain rather than music
planning gatherings rather than group texts
walking in the sun rather than in the dark
I sometimes feel like my quiet days
have my noisiest epiphanies