I've been writing a mess of poems lately and other sloppy things that I'm not sure what to call. They're mostly the result of me tampering with things I've written a long time ago, stuff about moments that meant something to me for some strange reason and I couldn't put my finger on it at the time, but looking back on it there are certain details that stick out to me. Things about what romance looks like before you've had your first kiss and on the threshold of not being enough for someone who is something wildly more than enough for you. Or the very different ways in which females and males feel powerless to one another. And mostly they're about the people I spent time with either right before becoming a teenager or on the outbreak of being one -- and how unique your relationships with people are when living is effortless and yawning and time is spanning out beyond you so far that you think yours will never come to a close. I don't know, anyways, this is one of the few poems I feel happy with. Not because I feel like it’s particularly good or anything like that— but I think there’s only maybe five or six things I’ve ever written and when I re-read them I think:

“that was it. I said it like I meant it.”