between isn’t something seen. it isn’t really anticipated. though I knew it was there I never bothered to acknowledge it; (one of my greatest talents is ignoring what I don’t want to exist). between isn’t something you can buy a map to. it isn’t concrete enough to stick old gum on or tangible enough to have a connection in your mind with an 80s pop song. I stumbled here some time with cardboard sky high and liquid hope cans.
II. in between
if I lived in the television chris martin would play songs for me. I can ride my bike here to the library like a character in one of the young adult books my little hands used to check out in droves. 4 words, or rather 3 words and one hyphenated: hong kong Chinese take-out. in between is sophomore year. have I actually stumbled upon in between or a time machine labeled ‘who called these the glory days?’
III. out of between
all I can say is rum rum rum. this plan has combusted but I promise you: its [going to be] coming up roses.