mature because of language, not mature themes.

The cobweb-lace-light-wave-circles reflecting on my glasses
Remind me of flowers-in-the garden-sun-pressing-on-my-skin-poetry
As the sun does exactly that,
And the bright pink petunias in front of me and behind me
Reflect on the glassy-grassless-four-door-greenhouse windows;
I sit on the doormat-carpet
And feel the ache of past-future-slow-down-stop
Wondering what in the rushing-to-class-from-class-AP-honors-shît
I've missed.

The End

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