Plans for After Graduating
Shapeshift into a stray cat,
live on the scraps I can beg.
Pick apart the seams on all my shirts,
then sew them back together
with the sleeves mixed up.
Dig a network of tunnels under my town,
and take up residence in them.
Break every clock I see.
Leave the fields of my future wild,
my calendar unconquered land.
Spend the next five decades writing
a single poem that will be forgotten,
then rediscovered by a civilisation
built on the flooded remains of ours.
Or, failing all that,
find an internship?

