I have learned that the best thrift stores
cannot be Google, Bing or Yelped;
They’re spread by word of mouth
without requesting Siri’s help.
I have learned a plastic zip tie
holds my hood shut while I drive
across the states in my Corolla
just to feel some more alive.
I’ve learned that cops don’t let you trespass
just “to get a better picture,”
and that nine times out of ten,
I’ll feel remorse after I’ve kissed her.
Because I’ve learned that people come and go—
or maybe I’m the one who’s leaving,
always packing up a bag because it’s better over there
…so I’m believing.
I’ve worked a half a thousand jobs
and I’ve made almost that much money,
and I’ll make light of just how broke I am
even though it isn’t funny.
I can’t name every president,
but I’m fluent in memeology,
and I’d probably be richer
if I’d not studied theology.
Yet here I sit, broke af
and borderline content.
I’m loving what I’m doing
though it won’t make me a cent.