I Don’t Anymore

I don’t write poems anymore. I write press releases and other professional, grown-up things.

I don’t read novels. I read children’s books.

I don’t save my money to travel to far away places. I save my money for taxes, my son, and wonder what’ll be left when I retire.

I don’t chase after a perfect photo of a sunset through autumn trees. I wait for my child to let me take a good snapshot of him.

I don’t sing on stage. I sing in the shower.

I don’t dream about passionate romance. I think about all the ways my heart could be broken.

I don’t wait to be rescued. I know I’m the rescuer.

I don’t hold my tongue when something’s important. I don’t even hold my tongue when something’s not.

I don’t ponder “what if.” I think about what is.

I don’t dip my toes in the water. I stand in the breakers.

<!– I don't stand in the corner scanning for someone familiar. I step into the crowd and dance. –>