Bygones -- by Marina Keegan
      I had a dream the other night that I was checking my email.   That dream sucks.     And woke to woes of seniors writing   love songs for tomorrow and   Tomorrow and the melodies   That flirt us forward, whispering   the next thing and the next thing   and  – so we beat on   birds flocking south until we   circle round and realize maybe   maybe all that running wasn’t worth it.     Maybe we should build a cabin.   Or teach high school.   Or use our hands.   My palms are smooth as words –   Weak with fashion and double spaces.     I want everyone else’s club and job and class   The grass I sleep in always browner than   Than that around erasing dreams   To sit and breathe because you   Only bank for two years then it's over   And twenty two is nothing new   It’s just another chance to build   For when we’re twenty three   And twenty four   And time begins to sell for more than   Any 9 a.m. to never.     We’re not stuck.   That's the thing, we're not stuck.   We owe no o...

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