I’ve only been home a few weeks
and even my room seems too full
of this person I was. I want to clean
everything. Sure, a few posters can stay
but I don’t need a monument
to my childhood waiting
for me at home. It’s all too tender,
like throwing out the deck of cards
my sister and I played “poker” with
would make the whole house shudder
Only the park feels big
enough for me to breathe.
I sit at the bottom
of the slide and look at the old Junior High.
Is this adulthood? Trying to shorten
the distances between myself
then retrieving too easily
things that used to be so far?