to her high school years

and envies her blindness,

her unclosing to everything,

no hopes, no dreams,

but like a dog,

now now now

and she could say she wasted

those days, but she knows

she could use some of that now

–and in her college years,

closing in, choosing this and that,

getting opinions, vain of course,

but always closing here and there,

until now everything is decided,

and she will die an individual–

but sometimes she misses her old

watery self,

swimming like

a transparent jellyfish

in a clear blue sea, back when

she didn’t even know

her sting could kill.

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