When you forget to
drink water

And the grease on
your bangs
makes them fall on
your face
in
just
the
wrong
way

When the form
and style
of
your being
are really
just
two separate
posts on the missed
connections page
of
craigslist

When you can
hear the weak sonic fibrils
of a train horn
in the distance
just
barely gracing
your cilia
but
it
isn’t
enough

When you stand
still, alone
in the middle of
the sidewalk
writing all this in
your tiny Blue’s Clues journal
because
if you don’t get it out
right now
you never will

When
is it
When will
it
When will you
become
What you need
to be