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seventeen

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sometimes

when you’re
seventeen

sliding from wintertime in to the cold backseat leather
felt through
any
clothes
the seatbelt remains unclicked
unfastened across the ridge of your shoulder;

you think:
whatever happens happens

if this mass of steel ends up twisted into another
if this vehicle diverges with another
like two drops of water
is sent twisting from the road
if glass shatters, spreads, hangs in the air for just a moment
before being sent into your skin
if the sound of groaning metal being crushed
fills your ears

whatever happens happens

to be or not to be?
let fate decide
i’ll follow it;

but sometimes

you grab the seat belt
push it in
hear the metal solidly safely attach to something strong
who knows what exactly
and click

and through oily finger streaked window glass
seen is every morning for the rest of life
for forever for ever
mornings that you
want
to wake up inside of;

the rubbish
the grey days spent alone
are worth the red rubies at the bottom
however small

its worth it
everything is worth it
everything is worth anything;

sometimes
when you’re seventeen

you exist in the first person
you narrate your story

every light beam, sound wave, chemical change
is yours
it exists for you
you are how the universe sees itself

reality is skewed by the perception of a
million billion trillion
thoughts fears worries hopes ideas pursuits dreams invention feelings beliefs ideas thoughts intentions emotions

now
is unfelt
is unseen, unsung through the murkiest watered glasses of
tomorrow and yesterday;

but sometimes

sometimes

on those days when the sky could only be more blue if it was violet
when the sun couldn’t hit the trees and building sides
at a more perfect slant

all is clear

you exist in the third person
watching yourself from above
standing in the room
not alone;

in the third person you see what others see

outside of yourself

detached from worries
just enjoy this moment and the cinematography
and the photogenicism and the goodness of this life
and this fair moment
laisser faire

watch yourself
breathe

count count
count
your blessings

if you did you could never stop;

we won’t be
seventeen
forever

or for ever again

or ever again;

each moment is new

be new
with it





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Literalist17 said...
Mar. 25, 2010 at 10:16 am
whoa just whoa. I liked your use of repetition and your ability to write about something that so many people can level on. :) just amazing
 
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