Poems from a Solo Trip

Lonely sunset
Spring Tuesday
Perfect weather
Strawberry Street
This is what I wanted
Journal out, sun down
Ghosts of past
Nothing wrong
I like how history speaks
Every corner I pass by

Colonial town in the 21st century
Cherry blossoms on the street
Had I gone this path four years ago
My life would’ve gone differently
And I would not be me
Not exactly
No copycat version of my mother
No therapized version of other
Would I have found happiness early?
Or later?
Or never?
Alternate universes seem scientifically plausible
So alternate me is sitting on the bench in Bella Vista
Right next to me

Last year I was a true believer
Now, I’m not
I feel emptiness in the pews
I wonder if they felt this way, too
300 years ago
Hands clenched together
Begging God for the sign
But feeling nothing
Maybe they all suffered from mold inhalation
Or maybe God left us many years ago
I don’t know

College town, big roads
All these students with bright futures
Bustling crowds
I feel awkward
I never belong
At 18 unsure how to connect
Then at 22, small talking with the waitress
If I could go back
I’d shake some sense into me