A Man With No Plan

is it 1999

I feel so new, so broken, so remade

I recognize so much and yet so little

the same feelings I had for this person

I have for nothing

icky, like sweat on a blistering July summer

forgotten, like change in a nightstand

caught between memory and fleeting present

bashfully reminiscent of how I touched

her hand, then disappeared behind an alley

I see her and forget who I am, until midnight

when every adolescent action haunts

not truly evil but wholly embarrassing

questioning overwhelms and dissolves

the confidence to see out the next day

I have no plan, other than to grow

obstacles will be climbed or moved

clouds move in on my position but I stand

on the shoulders of the fallen who believed

in warriors in a garden

not gardeners in a war, the world needs

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