hitting the hood of my truck 

that stopped dead in its tracks 

on our way to the water.

I’m too young to know how to wake

something up from the dead,

but Lord knows I’ve tried. 

How do I walk into this new life 

wondering what of all I love 

won’t outlive me? Like this truck,

maybe, stopped along the side

of the road, with me stranded inside,

feet on the dash, only this pen

and notebook and swimsuit with me.

Growing up feels so much 

like growing apart 

from what we once believed in:

maybe love, maybe hope, the alyssum

sprouting through the sidewalk cracks.