“Concerning Your Younger Self”

Blame the late bloom, a mimicry of want

that is a vacuum: a place waiting to be filled 

Reader, friend, former 

friend, self: I did

not always know 

how to ask for what 

I needed. This is 

an inheritance 

and a regret  

(The thing about aging is this:) 

You may experience 

buoyancy, may snap back into 

chaotic youth on the passing 

breeze, a fragrance 

an old letter rediscovered,

but will not get to pick an 

opportune time

One such I found from you, your 

list of grievances. You 

had a point about 

everything except 

the drinking 

But neither of us asked for renovations; 

we burned the house down

I could write a letter 

to myself, but what 

good would it do? 

Admonishment

from the future: 

Oh, you think you’re grown?

Just wait.