the fog of daydreams when you close your
eyes in math class -
when sine over cosine equals the tangent
that your mind wanders off to
in search of anything
anything more interesting.
the shape of a hardback journal
with scribbles and notes and thoughts and emotions and memories
(even the ones you can’t wait to forget).
I’ll let the world write itself on the pages in my head
and edit the comments into and out of my final draft.
the sound of the teacher’s clock wound a little too tight
tick. tick. tick. tick. tick. tick.
one staccato beat after another, each
chasing after the future.
a steaming cup of coffee at 4:00 in the morning:
either keeping you awake or getting you there.
There is a reason I am not everyone’s cup of tea.
the feeling of earning a B:
forever changing my definition.