Final (other poem)

The days are getting longer
And I need to get out of the quick sand.
I’ve been sinking, and sinking,
For the last four years, and it’s
Time for the final stretch.

The tippy top of my head is sticking
Out of the debris, and it’s the last chance
To escape. I’ve packed my bags, and
My toothbrush is waiting patiently
On top of the sink. It’s the last thing to pack.

My escape plan has been finalized
And when the first ray of light
Shines through my window in the morning,
I won’t be there to see it.

And I will pass the high school, and
I will not turn back.
And I will pass the corner pizzeria, and
I will not turn back.

And I will pass your house, and
I will think about you thinking about me,
And I will not turn back.

And I will think about you staring outside your
Window waiting for me to appear outside
Like when we were kids. But you and I

Both know that those times are done, and
You and I both know that even though
I will think about turning back, I won’t

Do it because even though you are slowly
Sinking into the quick sand of the small
Town lifestyle, I have found away out,
And it’s in Los Angeles.