A decade ago I sat in a chair
in the dining room of the house
I was living in.

The stairs creaked, the fireplace caught its breath.
I wore headphones, spoke soft and
restrained myself.

I made a few attempts to fit in
to keep life as it had been.
I'm 25 today.
The same feeling -
I keep misplacing my direction.

Only I don't mind it.

I don't need prescriptions, or to trust.
I found therapy in cheap drinks,
empty rectangles I fill with
elementary words.

Widening hips, I don't remember deciding.
No money yet, I can't get focused,
but I do laugh a lot,
something I had never done before.
At nothing, I laugh,
at myself, with everyone watching.

I see myself ten years ago
wanting to be something wild,
in that dark room, I thought up the people
I could meet.
And I have.
We've crossed unstable paths,
kissed, mildly impressed and quickly bored,

just a secret plowed into these pages.

Nobody has seen the leo in me.
I wear one ring on my right thumb.
An ode to Jackie.
And Jackie's baby.

It is my birthday.
But I don't look, and I don't act the part.
I'm getting somewhere,
you may find me there.

08/01/2005

Posted on 08/01/2005
Copyright © 2024 Kimberly Rhode