I don’t need to open them
to know
what they are.
Lyric had Cash Apped
my first cut of the BeautyStarz money
after visiting the teahouse last week
and it had been enough
to buy privacy screens
for all of Chloe’s windows.
I sink to the floor in my room
acceptance letter in hand
boxes for my road trip in front of me.
I hear Moms in the kitchen
pulling out pots and pans for dinner.
The sound of them
so familiar it aches.
How can I tell them
the truth that sits on my tongue?
How to say—
I don’t want
what you want for me.
I don’t want more lectures
neat rows of desks
computer screens and
pulling all-nighters in the library.
I want the woods
highways and mountain ranges.
I want moss under my feet
sun on my face
the rush of river song
