Changing Expectations
It curdled.
The landscape.
Goop.
The notion the I might get that degree?
Whoosh.
Revving up to a wasteland.
And live in downed wires.
I really might have graduated.
If my organs didn’t curdle.
People look at me like I have eyes that care.
Or gratitude.
So I wailed at notions and old sticky notes.
And my soul that didn’t study enough.
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