SMALL SCENE II

Like the waning moon

you were a phase.

10.11.26

I wrote a poem once and called it October. At the time I think I was trying to sound like Henri Cole because Twilight made me think about sex. Now I’m thinking about how all my life I’ve been early. Like a compulsion. Like my life depended on it. On not getting lost on the way to class so I’ll factor that in. So I don’t fuck it up. Being on time I mean. Lately I’ve been late. In some ways always have been. Late bloomer. Sounds nicer than it is. Makes you think of seeing flowers in October and instead it’s not being able to think of what comes next. I wrote another poem with a different title that takes place in it. October I mean. Something about the long drives we’d take on my birthday. It was a finalist for a prize I think could have made me finally feel like a poet. Now I’m thinking about what it means to have a birthday when your mom is dead. It means it’s October again.