You sit out back of the dominoes on a
milk crate
You told them you smoked because you heard it earned you more breaks
After a while you figured you'd give
it a go if you were going to be out
there anyway
Then there was the beer
First swallowed with friends holding red
solo cups as you clapped each other on
the back and looked out at the infinity
laid out before you
The world? The world was your oyster.
Now you sit on your milk crate, the
possibilities getting more and more
narrow with each day –
You should've been in university
You could've gone to college.
You sit, smoking a cigarette, composing haikus about what could have been
Five hundred and seventy-five possible roads and you took none.
Your colleagues are talking about Jennifer Lawrence while you're swigging gin
masquerading as water. Keep writing,
for that life is not for you.