to tell you goodbye

I scrounge for change. I bring my own travel mug

to school because it’s cheaper that way. I start books

but do not finish them. I think about love obsessively. 

Everything I do reminds me of my grandfather.

My grandmother visits and talks to me about God, 

wants me to believe, but I do not have that kind of faith

.

I only believe in the easy things, like red lipstick

and coffee before noon and writing essays in pen.

I make my mind up about boys and then I unmake it,

compare us to continental drift, two ships passing.

I hit the snooze button too often. Write disposable

poems on napkins and old homework, try to discipline

myself when it comes to removing my makeup 

before bed. I am trying to understand men better

,

cut them some slack, write about them less. I dream

about oceans and mountains and wolves. I do not

always love myself. I do not always forgive myself. 

I write apology letters and do not send them. Usually,

I do not mean it when I tell someone “goodbye.”