13707 Embassy Row
A Poem by Brigid Cooley
I wonder how many of our tears the pavement of this parking lot has soaked up over the years.
This is where we've given people nicknames that no one else understands; where we've worried about things that didn't matter while ignorantly wringing our hands,
wishing on stars and hoping for better tomorrows.
I don't have the remedy to all of your sorrows.
I don't know why it's the good people who get screwed over.
I don't think we'll ever be able to walk down back roads without nervously looking over our shoulders to see if mistakes are lurking behind us.
Look at how much we've changed.
Think of the times we complained about trivial things; boys who didn't know our names and how certain pairs of jeans make us look fat.
We were never taught that the way adults cope is by learning not to care.
No one told me that calluses aren't optional; they're necessary.
Funny how, over a dinner of sour straws and Oreo cookies, we learned the most important lesson of all...
Life is more than just a little messy and not everyone is in it for the long haul.
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