sujin nj

early morning, i'd be six.
as the hide-and-seek sun
rises through the window
and the world is just
a blanket to get lost in.
and that laughing sun.

late morning, i'd be seventy-one.
all of us sitting on the porch
a collection of smiles that trigger
creases at the corners of our mouths
and eyes that kaleidoscope in
as we think back to the good times
to come later in the day.

during lunch break, i'd be thirty-seven.
at the coffee shop, full of caffeine,
a smoke away, from returning,
back to work.

after school, i'd be eighteen.
fitting people in those spaces in cars
clearly not meant for people,
air being shaken by the bass
of the radio of the next car over
at the red street light.

when late night and dawn mix
when it's a.m., but still pitch black,
i'd be twelve.
staying up the whole night for the first time
one more life goal accomplished.

at eleven o'clock, i'd be twenty-one
because night has officially begun.
happiness no longer needs a reason.
we can pretend to be young again,
and friends battle with alcohol
over who has the greater influence.

after dinner, i'd be twenty-nine.
on a couch, in a living room
where cuddling and love
just skim the surface,
and married is a label
to something we already knew we had.

and all that's left is the afternoon
the time that makes or breaks the day,
and in that time spent in between,

i'd always be seventeen.

©