Day Five

I graduated five days ago.
I suppose that's it for a town I never loved until the end.
Hopefully, not of people.

I was a nomad living off of kindness and a debit card.
Not to be remembered for that, hopefully.

Oh, we sing for memories, but what do they do for us?
Coming home, I have to merge two rooms into one clean one.
What do we throw away? What memories are important enough to keep?

The second grade poem about a red tail hawk?
The quarter aliens that used to have a society, stories, in my mind?
The written note from a friend saying, you keep us together. no one gives you credit. i love you.
The candles won from a silly contest?

Where do we put the stuffed animals fictitious children will not care about?


What do we count as important?
The bad memories are in a box in the attic.
Don't remember the dog, the futon, the manatee bracelet.

I suppose the walking across a deafened stage passed me into adulthood.
Childhood memories, storylines, and hopes can be forgotten.
Time to grow up.
Find a job
any job
except THAT job.

Stand in line. Smile. Cry.
Walk with dignity because of course you are special.
Now live without any knowledge of how to breathe.