the non-traditional,
what do i lack? perhaps a
red solo cup here and there but
nothing more serious than this;
perhaps a group of friends
that lasts four years and longer,
but nothing more than this.
the return, break-taker,
breath-taker lacking in ambition
i suppose, but who is to say
labels fit anyone at all; the truth
is in the grades, the desperate
two-semester marathon for an
entire grade point to average in.
the transfer, maybe twice,
what do i become? a time waster, a
perpetual dropout, home reliant
washed up washed out detritus
medical billing assistant,
and nothing more than this will
you see in me. i am deserted, i am
led astray by the system and i
am the only one standing in my corner,
but i'm throwing punches, and
you're taking them. non-traditional,
take your stereotype, add a pinch
of irony and a dash of determination
bake at 350 for five semesters
and wait for the rising explosion.