We’re making plans like I will see him again.
He’s acting like I will.
But where he’s going isn’t good. It isn’t good.
An airplane flies overhead and that’s where he’ll be in eleven days,
in the sky, flying through our uncondensed stratosphere,
thirty thousand feet above the ground, which is where I am planted
like a seed
spreading my roots and growing up,
learning to accept that my friends don’t have to stay planted with me.
Boa constrictor slithering around
My lungs, coil, tighten
Oxygen clouds, strained gasps
Weight of a wall crushing down
My chest, break, tighten
Deep inhale, sharp exhale
It will be okay, it will be okay
Toxic stress flows out of my mouth
Keep telling myself that
And hope that I’m right.
III. Early Birthday
it’s been a good night
we crouched behind the counter
waiting to jump out and yell
(although surprising someone
who we know to be armed
is probably not the brightest idea)
then big smiles and hugs
I’m glad I was a part of this
but it reminded me
of his impending departure
Wednesday, the last day
that’s when we say goodbye.
IV. Not Like Every Girl on TV
I am not desperate, I am not depraved
I have more respect for myself than that
I don’t need a man (or a boy) to make me happy
I’ve never been particularly dependent on anyone
I’ve got my own ideals, a certain fire in my chest
I’ve lived my life just fine without someone to lean on
I can keep going like this as long as I feel right.