fridays

fridays never change
never when you're older

you'll always feel 9-years-old-in-a-classroom
with the most beautiful weather wafting outside

a street ever more lovely, lacking air pollution,
a temporality invented by someone pugnacious

to define an era of the act of brittle
once, i wanted to live like living outside all the time:

putting my elbows on the table

or in the side dish

eating junk foods before dinner

walking around with some imaginary friend
folding the corners on books with vehemence

drinking the last of the milk and
not returning the carton

sleeping through my afternoon classes
partying on a tuesday night

look at me coloring on the internet
i tell you it's the same as coloring in the margins

the only thing that changes
is what you wish you could be doing