College

Should I go? Should I be smart?

Should I quell this beating heart

That wishes for the thinking mind

And seems to scream from time to time

About the reason or the rhyme

Behind my every line

And his and hers and theirs and we--

Who are we and who is me?

What is that--GOD WHAT ARE WE?

So calmy.

Deliberate.

Celibately celebrate.

Particulates

of that fleshy pink matter throb behind my mind’s eye.

So I write and my words fly.

I could stay right here you see.

See the world pass right by me

In a flurry of spontaneous

Creative Activity.

I’ll get a job in retail--

Day in and out stocking shelves--

While into tomes I delve wishing simply for existence.

I’ll stay where the best adventure lay

In the words between the page

And the shoppers, yes oh they

Will ask for “Pumpkin-spice jamba” which I’ll whip up in my hand

Or the depravity of my sanity slipping by like bits of sand.

I’d go home and pay the rent

Trying to ignore the dent

That idiot placed into my car

Just as deep as the long scar

That this intellectual prison has trapped me in.

I wake up.
I walk.

I talk when spoken to,

While they shop as they always do

And the beating of my heart

Matches the squeaks from their carts.

Beep goes the mart:

“I thought the bananas were on sale!”

Calm.

Down.

Slowly,

think.

Think about the blink as if it were your last.

What if it was?

What if this buzz were to dull down to a drowning hum

And the desperation in my thumbs

And limbs

And mind
Were to be silent?

What if I were to stay

And though almost every day

My mother and father with quiet dismay would plaster smiles on their faces?

Pull their teeth into a frown

that’s not quite so upside down.

What if their eyes hid disappointment

At the evident disjointment

Of my drive and ambition

Turned into deadly ammunition

‘Cause the tedium’s too much

and triggers have a feather touch.

What if I were to give up?

You and I both know we could

With backs and knees and brains “no good.”

I could claim disability

And try to forget the older me

Which would be oh so very hard

When in the streets the whispers

Broad

And

Thick

Whip across my face with an anguish unbeknownst to man.

So I run when

--no--

if i can.

Back to my books.

Back to my desk.

Back to the computer with its jests

And pokes at my internal wires

As I oh so slowly expire

Just like all of those before me

(Though their history might bore me)

And their lives fill up my pages

Distracting me from dangerous daydreams

While Mr. Inky Tears dances across the page,

Just wishing for a stage.

But what if I get stage fright?

Should I think if, if i just might?

What if walking ‘cross the campus
I am kidnapped by a Krampus

of fright and fear and real.

Oh, so real.

What if I try to fly back home like a bird that’s left alone

Fluttering back west where Winter roams?

Waste money on a  ticket--

Nine-nine-five doubloons to get it--

And “Home” rejects me where I stand

On that runway with clammy hands.

What if I regret it,

Although I struggled to abet it.

What if my mouth pools into lies to be spewed at seasoned eyes

And those salty little fries fry my eloquence away?

No matter how many amethyst stars I present at their pearly gates.

No matter what luck they wished me had I made

It to that promised land,

Diploma in hand.

No, I assure you that I want it.

There are no shoulds, coulds, woulds, or be’s.

There are no cloudy uncertainties

Spouting from that dusty train

On my which my hopes and dreams are lain

Chug-chugging through and through the day

Trampling all that’s in my way

Whether friend, or foe, or babe

Squish goes the tracks.

And I am never looking back.