twenty three

it’s april now and springtime and 

change are on the horizon

sunset, a peach color i don’t know 

how to describe and cigarettes 

slow-burn beneath me, their 

owners discussing a crisis in 

Syria while tap-tapping an ashtray

they’re probably going to burn down 

the place one of these days (i’ve been 

contemplating this since september) 

and they don’t even know the half of it 

but i keep that to myself.

my birthday arrives three weeks from now

twenty three this time, and i feel the heaviness 

that comes with all that and the responsibility too.

it’s only twenty-three for godsake not twenty-five, 

(I keep telling myself) which is when you really 

feel the world push in and start losing your mind 

over all that unaccomplished s**t (a hereditary trait, 

i’m told--i wait with bated breath) but i’m staring 

at so many futures it leaves me rattled.

i’d take something different if it meant a choice 

didn’t have to be made, not now at least, dotted lines 

and fine print permeate daily living like bruised ribs.

i used to think i could do every great thing i imagined 

but i don’t believe that anymore.

perhaps i can do small pieces of the many 

great things left to be done in the universe 

but there will be an infinity more left undone 

when the world’s finished with me.

i don’t want to understand it but i do.

i think that’s growing up.

i think that’s twenty three.

Reviews

[The Twin Arenas]

Twenty-three? Twenty-three??
The requisite older saying it's nothing.

Good piece, though. You can change the ages every year until the day you die, and you the rest will hold together well.