Crying Over Milk (Crates)

I have a milk crate that can make me cry

I have a heavy suitcase that I cannot empty
in it are the reasons my daughter
will never be mistreated
and a few why she might be a little crazy like her mother

I have a milk crate that can make me cry

I have a duffel bag that has a high school dance in it
it has the endings of the beginning of the beginning's end

I have a milk crate that can make me cry

And I have a cardboard box that has a pen
and the innocence
and the energy
and the drive
and the certainty
of an 18-year-old baby girl with everything to to lose
and gain

But about that milk crate that makes me cry...

It has that girl's heart
and her mind
It has everything she could have been
and everything she wasn't
It has were she came from
and no sign of where she's going
It has a mirror that reflects and unfamiliar face

I have a milk crate that can make me cry.

Wantings

So it's been a while...more than a year while...but let's not dwell on that.

With graduation coming at me like a high-speed Euro train, my mind has been consumed with thoughts of the future. Every little detail needs to be planned out...yet I have no solid plans on which to anchor my details, so I ultimately end up thinking in endless little dizzying circles (not unlike carousel rides on the gyrating ponies).

I got an internship offer from the Center for Public Integrity...I really want it...but at the same time it's scary accepting it. It's ending my endless unknown.

I have come to a point though, where I must accept that there are things I know for sure. I find comfort in saying I'm unsure of everything...but I'm breaking down. I am, indeed, sure of a few things.

I want my own place.
I want it on or off of New Hampshire Ave.
Somewhere between the old Black neighborhood and the new Gay one.
I want hardwood floors and stainless steel.
I want passersby to admire that candlelight coming from my bedroom windows.
I want the summer night calm to drift through them and rock me to sleep.
And in the winter, I want to find comfort in hot chocolate and homemade quilts.
I want a cat.
A ginger one...or maybe bleu.
I want friends to visit for dinner parties and drink too much wine.
I want to listen to weird music...because it makes me happy.
I want to be with him.
I do.
I want to walk down the street and feel like the flyest, most swagger-having bitch in the city.
I want the breeze to flip my bangs just right.
I want rain boots.
I want to wear dresses and feel like a flower.
I want to fall asleep in the middle of a field without a care in the world.
I want to leave this place...without anyone knowing, yet trusting me to trust myself.
I want to make my family happy.
I want money to never affect my mood. ever. again.
I want to show my friends that I care, even if it's not the way everyone else does.
I want to be OK with the mistakes I've made.
And stop reciting bullshit to make myself feel better.
I want to know me. love me. and want me.
I want a bike...and I want to rarely ride it.
I want to be a hipster...and have hipster friends who drink PBR and play outside.
I want to know I'm on the right path.
I want to know I'm a good person.
And I want everyone else to know that, too.
I want to go to concerts and art shows.
I want to get in really good shape.
I kinda want to henna my hair.

I think I'm done. (writing, not wanting)

Peace.

--TR