checklist
There's many things I want to do,
She said with a smile
When I was younger I made a list
And I drew tiny boxes next to them,
Waiting to be filled with a hastily scribbled checkmark
Smoke wafted from between her lips with each garbled word
And her hair frizzed up just ever so slightly as the cigarette
Marked a trail from here to there, a small coiling snake,
A shed of innocence that somehow caught fire
I still have that list, in my notebook,
The paper is all crumbled and yellowed and the edges
They're slowly fraying, like fabric, and sometimes I think
I can pull out threads of my dreams from that page - - -
She flicks the cigarette away from her,
Beautifully painted red nails clicking
Stuffing her coat pockets with her tired hands
Slowly letting her head dip into the skies
It's been years
None of the boxes have been checked
I'm still here
But I'm also tired
She laughs quietly,
I'm really tired
And, abruptly, tries to push at her left eye -
Trying to hold back more smoke,
Or maybe steam,
Evaporated stench of childhood,
I'm so tired.
