My Poems Are More Like Diary Entries Anyway

Like so many nights before,

I sit alone in my room

I try not to think about home

because I get way too nostalgic,

but I have nothing better to do

I remember playing tennis for

my school and loving the way the

clouds looked through the chain-linked fence

It seemed like if I got up there I'd

just jump around on them like trampolines

I remember going off campus to eat

lunch with my friend, we would talk about

things and listen to our coma-inducing music

We learned a lot about each other, and the world

Was it ever cloudy back then?

I remember falling in love out there on the

courts, and the way the rain left whenever she was happy

I remember asking her out right there

in the parking lot, and almost crashing the car

with road rage afterwards

I remember seeing all the art-house movies

down in Austin with my friend and my brother

How can such a little theater hold a universe of memories?

I can't listen to my music, it reminds me

too much of the unending sunshine back then

My counselor says I need pills for this,

is that the answer for everything these days?

This seems like a better coping strategy, even with the

weight of memory on my head, but like so

many nights before, I cry