—WHAT IF TIME DOESN’T DO WHAT IT’S SUPPOSED TO DO?

 

prom

 

it’s prom night

and I’m lonely

trying to hug these stars

that don’t know me

wondering about Noelle

and who she’s holding

wrist-corsaged

always tops always golden

I miss her honeysuckle scent

forefinger twirling hair

not that she’s ever noticed

or should need to care

it’s prom night and Mom’s

screaming at the Antichrist again

Sis ain’t talking and

brother’s stuck in ‘Nam

I can’t stop dreaming

that The Dipper knows my name

from here the sky looks bruised

or maybe I mean maimed

it’s prom night

the rental tux is baby blue

trimmed in bold navy

tried it on fourteen times

cried each time such a baby

wrote a poem or

something else

read it out loud to the

bottom shelf

it’s prom night

and I’m growing smaller

though the mirror smirks

and tells me I’m taller