maybe when you’re 13 you’ll watch a documentary and sit in class imagining you’re a jet airplane far away from your stupid little town that’s pushing another day around the block like a shopping cart
drag your fingers down the length of lockers in the hall last day of seventh grade strange to feel nothing all up & down the corridor kids fly homework paper planes press the bar push the door blink against the sun
what does it matter? jet airplane
but anyone who’s ever said nothing matters in the end has never felt the way i did the year you were born when it was all crashing in and you were so small so small