i understood how gatsby felt
I'm awful sure
i never liked that damned book;
i always rushed through chapters
so i could read anything else
before the bell rang.
But when I open the windows nowadays
to replace my air with something else
i understand everything he was searching for.
Bright lights alien from saltwater
peaking out from neighborly gates
gleaning my eyes through brambles on the east side
all i do is reflect over where i went wrong
and how hard it has been
to navigate rich waters-
cracked spine, dog eared-
back to page one.
This poem is about:
Me