Young Se Choi
My spiral notebook
The shining metal bindings
flow the way
a boy’s dreams do in sleep.
These pages hold, carry, and nurture reveries,
But this book was meant for school work,
rather than the childish pleasures of drawing doodles,
although most of us have done at least one on the folded
corner of a page in the middle of writing endless, unused formulas.
The unsmiling, capital letters in “COLLEGE-RULED LENGTH” glare back
into my drowning eyes.
Five subjects are separated by
brown cardboard dividers until you wonder to stop and ask yourself:
A part of growing up is letting go of these five subjects