Here is this adulthood you
mentioned--
the subject we extolled
at the dinner table,
When I was ages one, two--
All the way to this time

I don't know but
i hope they like it, this "new great" me
although even if they don't, i shouldn't
care too much--

i expect to see the faces
of old friends from school posted
all over the billboards and articles
or on the TV screens,
All over my skin just to remind me of
How much I have yet to do
and can't reach, and will
these words find them?

i've placed myself on a
butter knife and spread myself thin
Over as many walls as i could
Because I wasn't sure--

I've written out notes on a page
In almost every form i know,
prodded at words like hardened sap
in my rib cage
or danced literally
over disregarded duties,
or acted as some other character just to have
A convenient mask to cover
the myriad of insecure autumn leaves
in my mind.

They're going to move on
as I am, and maybe i'll be
the winner of the next national prize,
maybe sweeping the urban sidewalks,
or somewhere in between extremes, still
watching the frozen-in-time eyes of old acquaintances
Plastered to the walls--

These walls I had built
around myself
while I mistakenly refused to grow