Type Out. So Jump In
Updated: Nov 19, 2018
Curling irons burn fraying tips - brunette, blonde, charcoal.
Faces painted pretty to match the touched up print.
This is me.
You put that stagnant smile in a pile with other pearly whites.
Selection time. Pile into piles.
Listen carefully for the first and last name mom and dad so specifically chose.
Names yell out and echo down the hall.
Not said or heard.
And it’s then that we push and pull and sift through those photo paper copies.
“She’s got it”, everyone said to the girl playing dress up.
Reinforced again on graduation day, BFA in hand.
“I got it.”
I step out of the crowded elevator and out to 8th Avenue.
“Maybe. Maybe I have this and more.”
I hear William Stafford echoing in my ears.
Story that Could be True.
“Maybe I’m a king.”
Read one of my favorite poems by William Stafford here: