me and every other teenager in north america

unceremoniously i fell out of my bed

onto the carpeted floor and i looked at my desk

to the mix cd i didn't give to you

i laid there and didn't get up for a long time

i thought, 'moving to new york is not going to solve your problems.'


cautiously i held a seashell to my ear

because i haven't heard the ocean since i was little

i sat on the floor and listened

to a starfish crying softly in his bed