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  • 20 years old,
    bare dorm room,
    November dark,
    somewhere above
    heavy metal takes on the Grateful Dead.

    Books on the desk,
    unread,
    tattered notebook,
    scored with
    scribbled lines.

    Late for class,
    I pause
    caught by the mirror.

    Ponytail askew,
    red-eyed and hollow
    from too much weed.
    Is this life,
    I ask.


    10,000 stories,
    33 years
    12 jobs,
    6 times zones ,
    two oceans,
    a continent,
    a hemisphere,
    further.

    Dark May morning,
    late for work,
    the mirror catches me,
    bathroom lights harsh
    and unforgiving,
    I pause

    Thinning hair,
    lined by winds
    sun,
    and smiles.
    This
    is life.
    I grin.
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