The Book of Hope: I Need a Drive

And so goes the delusions of youth
or the delusions of grandeur
and so goes the world as we knew
or the way that we saw it when, say,
we thought that everything
could be answered by a long night out
with friends . . .
or like it was during the summer nights
down by the water—out until the dawn came
and ah, yes,
it was good to be young and hopeful
or careless or maybe
we were still young enough
to be carefree
because life hadn’t picked up speed
yet.

I am finding myself at a place
or thinking about a familiar time of year,
of which:
I say this is familiar,
but of course it is—we are at the birth of summer.
However, we are also at the close of the spring
or winter months,
and yes, I find myself
in an open stream of nostalgia –
thinking about the way it was
when school let out.

I am sifting through things
like the times when all I needed
was to drive fast
or feel the sting of the blade,
which is also called life—and, of course,
I mean this more figuratively
than literally.
The blade part
that is.

I find myself thinking about the impasses
and crossroads
or about the times
when I was at the weddings of friends
who married too young
and divorced equally as young
and as they found their heartache,
I remember thinking of them
and what happened to them
after finding out
how the other half lived.

I find myself wondering
(as usual) and thinking about
what my life would have been like
had I gone left instead of right
or stayed a few minutes longer,
or left earlier,
or escaped
before the troubles happened.

I say this knowing full and well that
my past has made me who I am.
I say this knowing that my tests of time
and trials or tribulations
are part of what put strength in my spine
to keep me standing.

I think about the things which people go through
and how someone is almost guaranteed to say,
but you’re just so strong now—and maybe strong
is what we are
when being strong is the only choice
we have.

But looking back, I can say this now
and with a smile,
that I could stand to be a bit less strong
if it means my past was a little bit easier.
but it’s okay.
I already know . . .

I am as God made me.
I am who I am.
I am me, and who I am
is not up for negotiation; however,
I am open to changes and improvements
or anything of the sort—but again,
I do not want to digress.

I never had a prom.
I never walked across the stage
to enjoy my graduation.
I never wore a cap and gown
and I never had the rites of passage, like say
sitting in the parking lot of a high school
waiting for my friends
or planning some event
that would extend the weekend
to something crazy, or
spectacular.

I have always said that I am going to
give myself a prom—one day.
But in the fairness to my recent changes
and in light of my recent adjustments,
I think this has lowered itself
on my list of priorities, which is not to say
that this is no longer a priority to me,
because it is –

Instead, this is me allowing myself
to reconnect with a better surface
to start with
or as if to begin again
from a better plateau in my head,
as if to be free,
like, in a field
of tall grass,
an endless breeze which is
refreshing—and ah,
the ideas of young love, to which
I used to regret
but no more
because at least now,
I know . . .
windows close,
opportunities change
and life moves on.
So be it.

There will be no more settling,
no more second place
and no more losing myself
to a priority scale which is sliding backwards
and poorly representing me
and my value.

But again,
please, before I digress
even further.
 
I never had a real youth
or youthful experience
and no, I cannot say that my past
would be seen as desirable
by any means — or maybe I am
mistaken.

Maybe I am more aware now
and my past wasn’t so bad.
You know?
I mean, I am still alive
(somehow)
or maybe I am aware that not everything
was so bad
or even the bad parts,
or even the tough parts of life
were laced with the grace
or a better fortune
to set the record straight
for a later future.

I used to look back
and see what I missed;
or I cursed my choices
for going left
instead of right.

I cannot recreate my past
but I can improve my future.
But before I do,
first I have to incorporate
the bravery it takes
to get up and move
and to make the changes
which prioritize me at the top
instead of slipping away
or dwindling to last place
in a race
which only involves me.

The summer is on its way.
I plan to make this one a good one
and although changes have occurred,
I am aware now
that I have the right to choose too.
I do not have to be held hostage by rejection
and should my hope need a boost
to put wind in my sails,
then by all means
let me choose “me”
and set sail the way I’ve always dreamed.

I think a trip is coming—

I think a long drive with the top down,
hugging the corner of some mountain
on the West coast,
and the sun is going down . . .’

I could use this, as in
right now.

I’d like to take this ride
and feel the wind through my hair
but, of course, the music I choose
would be essential, and the song
which I’d use to begin my journey
is the tune that sets the stage.

(Know what I mean?)

But I’m open to a new playlist
and I’m open to finding a new way,
or if, per se, there’s a place
in the Southwest, where a bowl of soup
is equal to a slice of heaven—

I’m open to that kind of drive too.

I don’t have to look back anymore.
I tried to recreate my past
but now
it only makes sense to recreate my future,
by any means necessary.

A cup of coffee . .
. . . and a good vision in my head

Yeah . . .
that feels good.