Returning
to my teenage bedroom
makes me
want to open the window
and crawl out on the roof,
lie down
and look at the sky
stars
clouds
God created –
the God
I didn’t even really believe in,
yet –
and listen to the world
one song at a time,
while contemplating life
and death
and everything
I don’t understand
about people.
Or anything else,
really.
I’m not even sure
I understand more now
than I did then.
Maybe I am just willing
to acknowledge
that what I do know for sure
is I know very little.