If I could be anywhere at the moment (aka, the 2003 poem)

Standard

Go home and put a tank top on as if it were
summer, as if all of this had happened already
and we knew the answers to how and why. We
could imagine that we could eat shepherd’s pie
whenever we wanted, and that Christmas
shopping is a distant memory or worry, and
that, in spite of his reputation, Russell
Crowe will marry me someday. Put your
sandals on and let your toes breathe a sigh
of relief, pretend that you didn’t break
anyone’s heart and that yours will never
be hurt again. Make-believe that chipped
nail-polished hands hold paintbrushes for
friends creating mini-miracles, that your
ego doesn’t matter when skin peeks through
when it shouldn’t, and that they never told
you that your body or what it does or what
it wants is wrong. Hold someone in your
heart or arms or both like it matters more than
anything if your mom likes him as much as you
did or will. Remember that the future is something
to make or create or forget at your leisure.