Am I feeling what you’re feeling Do I have a view inside Is it empathy or arrogance To think I know your mind
I’m upset when you’re upset That I’m upset tha— stop. Is it insight or insanity To guess what’s in your thoughts
Sometimes when I’m in tune with all your nuances and moods With things I couldn’t, shouldn’t know But feel as though I do
I wonder if I’m penning my own Stories onto you Tales I’ve written with my eyes closed, Woke, and read like something new
If I were taller, I’d wade Water lapping at my knees, I’d be At peace, unafraid That I might wander in too deep
But here I am, so close to land And I’m drowning in the shallow water
If I were curious, I’d roam Stirring ripples with my strides, I’d go Searching for a home Looking out across the tides
But I’m looking down at my reflection And it’s drowning in the shallow water
If I were stronger, I’d swim And flounder though I might, they’d say I put the effort in At least I went out with a fight
But there’s no honor to be found Drowning in the shallow water
If I were patient, I’d stop Close my eyes Count my breaths And see For everything I’m not There’s still unfathomable depth
And my lungs keep pumping air Out here beyond the shallow water
**I actually wrote all but the last verse of this poem several years ago, and never finished it because it was, uhh… too bleak. I was happy this prompt (and a few years’ perspective) gave me a chance to bring it out of the nose dive at least a little bit.
I knew this city yesterday I woke to change Like looking at a stranger
The walk sign is on Caught in my periphery A turn I didn’t know to take
Flowers in the stores, Signs hung on the doors with hours: “Any time but now”
But how? I can see them Inside, shopping, smiling Their city still in sync
Has the city changed? It’s strange to think That I could be forgotten This city knew me yesterday
𝄆 A simple question, on its face An idle path to tread But every dead end sends me reeling Fearing what’s ahead
Lost within this feedback loop My doubts compound and clatter Amplified and dissonant Till something in me shatters
Among these shards my shifting thoughts Reflect, refract and scatter And now I’m grasping at the fragments, Wondering why it matters
When all that’s left with heft enough To set upon the scale Is certainty I’ll search again For certainty, and fail
As levers taut with tension snap I’m falling like a feather Wondering, next time I misstep… What can I do better? 𝄇
I don’t want to grow up But I still want to grow I want to be that kid With such potential years ago
I don’t want to grow old And lose my best excuse For not yet having realized The promise of my youth
I don’t want to find out That this is all of me That if I clear away the silt There’s nothing left to see
I don’t want to stand out But I don’t want to fade Away from possibility Irrelevant, afraid
I don’t want to keep not wanting Hiding from it all I want to want to reach for something Unfafraid to fall
“She’s acting,” Ell mouths, turning toward me to shield the words from the woman rushing past us.
I look up from my halfhearted examination of the welcome pamphlet, the words having lost all meaning somewhere between the fifteenth and twentieth readthrough. After over two hours of waiting, these are my options: stare at the pamphlet, stare into space, or stare at the attendees on their way out of the gallery. The ones lucky enough to be free of this interminable line, off into the cool night air with what I can only imagine must be a wholly transformed perspective of the world. This is what I tell myself, because why else wait for hours on end to view an exhibit with just a single item? And for a maximum of ten minutes, at that? Every sniffle, sob and starstruck expression that passes by I file away in my Evidence This Isn’t a Massive Waste of Time folder.
Ell… has a different take.
“Totally faking it,” she continues under her breath as the teary-eyed attendee passes out of earshot.
“You’ve said that about every other person who’s come out of there,” I reply softly.
“Yeah, because they’ve all been crying like they just got pepper sprayed. Which for all we know they might have been! I don’t buy it. Besides, why do you think they bring them back out the same way, parading them past the rest of us like that?”
“Because otherwise they’d be exiting into the alley on the other side of the building?"
“No, dummy, because they know we won’t wait around this long without something to convince us it’s worth it,” she taps a finger to her temple knowingly.
I let out a quiet chuckle and shake my head, wondering if I’m shaking it at her or at the discomforting realization that she was describing my exact thought process.
“But like, it could be my thing,” I say.
She sighs dramatically and pats my arm. “So naïve. You’re going to have to wake up someday.”
I roll my eyes, grinning. “So what are you still doing here, waiting in line with me? Awfully long time to wait for a hoax.”
“Are you kidding? I’m waiting to get my reward.”
“The reward of… a deeply moving art exhibit?” I raise an eyebrow.
“The reward of whatever they’re offering people in there to come out and really sell it to the rest of us chumps,” she responds, rubbing her hands together in mock anticipation.
“Also I drove you here,” she continues, “and as much as it would serve you right for me to abandon you after mocking me so callously, I told Nico and Steph we’d meet up with them after. You’re only in town a couple more days, they’ll kill me if we have to spend the whole time tracking you down at whatever pagan cult these people whisk you off to."
“Hold up, I thought I was getting paid in there. Now I’m getting abducted?”
“They’re getting paid,” Ell nods toward a wide-eyed couple exiting the exhibit, then pokes my chest with her finger, “you’re getting abducted.”
“To a pagan cult."
“Or a sex cult,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Could be both,” I speculate as we shuffle slowly forward in line. Two plus hours of increasingly absurd conversation later, we’re actually quite close to the entrance to the exhibit.
Ell pauses, thoughtful. “Good point. The venn diagram of those is probably more venn than diagram, if you know what I mean.”
“I do, but that could be the fatigue talking.”
Even as I say it, I feel the anticipation beginning to stir again. Somewhere far back in line that spirit of excitement had gone dormant, opting very wisely to sleep through the bulk of the monotony. I envied it, at the beginning. But now we’re mere steps from the entrance, and I’m both relieved and — if I’m honest — mildly irritated to find my enthusiasm returning, well-rested and entirely too forgiving of the wait Ell and I have endured.
A group of four in front of us enters the nondescript door to the exhibit, and we’re greeted at the front of the line by a polite nod from a gallery attendant. I glance over at Ell. Despite her earlier skepticism, I see her eyes are bright with the same eagerness I feel.
I lean in and ask quietly, “What are you going to do with your reward money?”
Ell smiles, eyes locked on the door while she considers. After a moment she sways to the side, bumping me with her shoulder gently. “Buy two more tickets, and get right back in line with you."
She glances over at me for a brief moment, and I can’t help grinning in response. The attendant motions us forward into the exhibit, and I walk toward the door with Ell, both of us on the verge of laughter. Despite all the evidence we’ve seen to the contrary, I’m inexplicably certain we’ll be walking out the same way.
