First of all,

I’m not a poet.

I know,

What a great way to establish my ethos, but believe me.

 

I’m just a geeky kid who likes to write sometimes.

If it means anything,

My fourth grade teacher once told me, that I could be a novelist.

 

When I was in fifth grade,

I asked my best friend via email

To be my editor.

She replied by telling me I needed a driver’s license,

And I replied by asking her what side of the bed she woke up on.

Because for me,

Seventeen-years-old was basically forty-three-years-old and that was a very long way off, and I didn’t have time for that if I wanted to be a best-selling author by the age of fourteen.

 

So I thought I could be a novelist.

When I was in fifth grade,

I opened up a new Word document,

Formatting it neatly with size 12 Times New Roman

And an official-looking size 36 Papyrus “Chapter 1” at the top of the first page.

I started about seven different stories,

And got through about half a page for each,

Then I quit after realizing I knew next to nothing about polar bears

Or kung-fu or secret service agents or vampire cats.

Dejected, I closed my Word document,

But I made sure to save it just in case my rough drafts

Became a million dollars each

When I became a best-selling author at the age of fourteen.

Because, when I was in fifth grade,

Fourteen was basically seventeen,

Which was basically forty-three, which was a very long way off.

And I didn’t have time for that.

 

When I was fifteen,

I proudly handed in my final paper

About a prison break and two imprisoned men.

I got an A on the paper,

But when my teacher handed it back to me,

He asked me why I chose to name my characters after characters in Lord of the Flies.

It was at that point that I realized,

I knew next to nothing about prison breaks.

I suddenly felt very glad that seventeen

Was still basically forty-three,

Which was still a very long time before I had to worry about my driver’s license.

 

Now, I’m finally seventeen.

It’s certainly no forty-three,
I mean,

Forty-three is basically sixty-five is basically one-hundred two,

Which is still a very long way off.

I could technically get a driver’s license,

But unfortunately,

I’m still stuck about half a page through Chapter 1.

 

After all, I’m still just a geeky kid who likes to write sometimes.

I think I’m a dork.

My friends tell me I’m just quirky,

But I ask them if that’s a euphemism for something.

Because I sometimes try to write poetry,
Even though I’m not a poet,

And believe me.

I know it.