I learned how to look busy

Everybody’s going somewhere. I learned how to look busy.

Green light.

Wrong street.

Another version of me

I didn’t get to be.

Maybe I’m late.

Maybe there’s no train.

Maybe—

(shhh) —I like it that way.

Where do I go

when nowhere feels wrong?

Where do I go

when nothing feels like home?

I keep waiting for a sign,

then changing all the signs.

Maybe I don’t need to know.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Twenty doors.

Same key.

Everyone says: “Choose.” I say:

“Give me a minute.”

I’ve been becoming

for so long.

What if becoming is all?

If I knew the ending,

would I still want to go?

If

I knew

exactly who I’d be… would I want to know?

(hummm) Not yet…

Not yet…

WHERE DO I GO

WHEN NOWHERE FEELS WRONG?

I keep waiting for a sign—

then changing all the signs.

Maybe getting lost is somewhere I belong.

Not yet.

Not yet.

Ask me tomorrow.