Choice
The door to my room is locked tight so no one will catch me getting out the secret letter under my mattress. I've had it for about a week, unable to come up with a way of telling my parents about my acceptance to Galt University at Hamilton, New York.
This letter is my ticket out of here.
I want to go to this college because I live in a town called Ventura, Alabama, which is not a bad place to grow up in if you don’t mind it being dirt broke. The economy broke down in this town long before I was born and even the jobs that still linger pay less than minimum wage, so nobody can blame me for wanting to leave.
Evening at the Lake
An endless crowd of slender oaks
Enclose a sandy shore upon which,
A single boat waits patiently for me.
I lean over the pier and take my time
Staring down at the water that
Imitates the deep, deep blue above-
And there, I see a face
With his head turned against sky,
His gaze matching mine.
A while passes before I
Catch a heron eyeing me
At the left edge of my periphery.
Its stiff, unmoving bearing
Lures me to sense that
For now, the world is faint
Enough for me to heed even
The subtle rhythm of life within
And the buzz of a distant dragonfly.
Yet, hope as one might,
No delight can outlast
The course o
Abruptly
It’s another warm, autumn morning at school. So far, my senior year has been pleasant. Even my classes are fun to be in, except for statistics. I enjoy having people to talk to in class, people whom I've known for three years now. It's been an ideal start to the semester. Everything seems to be a distraction to keep me from reflecting on things.
I’m standing at the far end of the courtyard after lunch with my back turned away from the crowd, minding my own business and ready to be dismissed by the administrators. I can’t remember which one of us spotted the other first or how our conversation even started, but a f
Choice
The door to my room is locked tight so no one will catch me getting out the secret letter under my mattress. I've had it for about a week, unable to come up with a way of telling my parents about my acceptance to Galt University at Hamilton, New York.
This letter is my ticket out of here.
I want to go to this college because I live in a town called Ventura, Alabama, which is not a bad place to grow up in if you don’t mind it being dirt broke. The economy broke down in this town long before I was born and even the jobs that still linger pay less than minimum wage, so nobody can blame me for wanting to leave.
Evening at the Lake
An endless crowd of slender oaks
Enclose a sandy shore upon which,
A single boat waits patiently for me.
I lean over the pier and take my time
Staring down at the water that
Imitates the deep, deep blue above-
And there, I see a face
With his head turned against sky,
His gaze matching mine.
A while passes before I
Catch a heron eyeing me
At the left edge of my periphery.
Its stiff, unmoving bearing
Lures me to sense that
For now, the world is faint
Enough for me to heed even
The subtle rhythm of life within
And the buzz of a distant dragonfly.
Yet, hope as one might,
No delight can outlast
The course o