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Personal Note:

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Poem

It’s too tiring.
Waking up, and the dust is making me blink. 
Dust made of older dust. 
I have lots of time to clean, but I choose to drive instead. 

I have dreams of showering. 
If I lived at home, I would have a shower now. 
But I live in a car, and the car is depressed. 
I could be too, but one of us needs to drive. 

It was too tiring to play a sport. 
Or carry that extra geometry book. 
When I was young, tiredness was some easy thing. 
I would take naps between naps. 

It’s nice to drive, sometimes. 
Glancing at the cost of gas. 
And my car and I joke about it.
We will go farther next time. 

We will go farther next time. 
I hope the next town over is easier, somehow. 
Is less expensive, and has lit parking lots. 
I hope the next town doesn’t disintegrate under me. 

I remember school wasn’t like this. 
We sat in classrooms, and we were bored but we were fine.
They never told me about the endless towns. 
And unlit parking lots. 

It’s too tiring. 
But the cost of gas in this town is three cents less. 
So I bought a hot pizza. 
And fell asleep before I could finish.

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