Plans

 
“Write about making plans,” she said,
and I laughed –
    “oh honey, you know I suck at that!”
and she smiles, “exactly…”

This girl understands my poetry.

How it’s always all about the anguish
of making elaborate plans
that I’m not equipped to execute

and perceiving beauty
that I’ll never be able to hold.

How I can languish in the heartache
of imagined futures and friendships and feats
that I am powerless to actualize

and how,
despite the apparent misery,
I still choose this stubborn restlessness,
believing I can accomplish far more
than my time in this life affords me,
and making the wild plans
in spite of it all.

.