Bygones -- by Marina Keegan
I had a dream the other night that I was checking my email. That dream sucks. And woke to woes of seniors writing love songs for tomorrow and Tomorrow and the melodies That flirt us forward, whispering the next thing and the next thing and – so we beat on birds flocking south until we circle round and realize maybe maybe all that running wasn’t worth it. Maybe we should build a cabin. Or teach high school. Or use our hands. My palms are smooth as words – Weak with fashion and double spaces. I want everyone else’s club and job and class The grass I sleep in always browner than Than that around erasing dreams To sit and breathe because you Only bank for two years then it's over And twenty two is nothing new It’s just another chance to build For when we’re twenty three And twenty four And time begins to sell for more than Any 9 a.m. to never. We’re not stuck. That's the thing, we're not stuck. We owe no o
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