Old cross country medals hang on nails, dotting the wall above my self. A small statue of a golden man: Best Picture Comedy, 2006-2007. A relic of high school. My senior year passed so long ago but I remember my thoughts. Four years turned like rising bread. I'm barely old enough to drive, it seems, and yet my license has changed shape and photo.
Time is slick. The prints of my fingertips reveal my identity but refuse to grip the surface. They leave marks, smears to be washed--cleaned away--to be forgotten. Like breath on a mirror.
Time is slick but I am young. I'll hold the mirror to the sun.
Showing posts with label It's cold in my room and my toes are frozen.. Show all posts
Showing posts with label It's cold in my room and my toes are frozen.. Show all posts
Saturday, September 4, 2010
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