All Grown-Up

No one ever told me,

that’s a lie (probably),

but it allows some anger

to disturb the lethargy.

People were always droning

on about growing-up.

Warnings I didn’t hear.

I listened to myself, and ska.

I didn’t envision: crying bored,

staring over plain oatmeal

at ugly house-plants, hour-long

walks looping around

gentrifying neighborhoods

waiting for the sun to finish,

an early bedtime and another bowl
of oatmeal to start it again.  

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