Shall I compare the beginning of my new life
To a box full of lightbulbs? A bundle
Of firewood one buys in late summer?
What I am trying to say:
I am coated in darkness. But I have
Potential. I am barricaded by my own self
But I am at least well put together.
And forever is only an idea, not a
Frame of time. I know because
I have already lived a million forevers
And I have many, many more to go.
It shows in the bouts of wisdom
Of which I never knew the name
Something like a pessimistic realism
That loses hope as quickly as it regains
Its composure…measures my success
In my number of job offers. What I mean:
I am not yet depressed, but it is probable.
I am not yet alone, though sometimes
I feel as though that wouldn’t be
The worst thing that could happen.