Poems That Came From a Beanstalk

Counting

Racing and running
And proving to myself
That I did not need you
Or anyone else

And keeping check
On myself always
So I didn't drift and get hurt
Or float sideways

Knowing I am something
So it meant for me
That I had to stand separate
In order to be free

And I counted the days like
They needed to be quicker
Like: hurry, my life is waiting
Felt like I was only dragging

I did not think time counted
Really and sincerely
Until I stood in a square
Drawn ragged and smeary

I have watched the hand flash,
Counting with the timer in my head
Fifteen, thirteen, twelve
Soon enough, I can cross the street instead

And there was a quiet panic
Like I thought I'd miss what came after zero
Even when I believed I was letting go
My knuckles got whiter

So while I was counting down my days to cross,
I never considered being okay
With admitting how interesting
Not being alone could be

And by that I mean

When the red 0 follows a one
And the little white man appears
And if you were walking along side me
And instead of counting the days

Perhaps I could just count on you

And maybe that wouldn't be so bad