February 17th / Shoutout to Gravity

by Annabelle Goll

i started writing this poem in a bathroom stall of the Hillman library.

it is over 50 degrees outside on february 17th. it is a friday. i am still trying to decide how i feel about not having a valentine.

the floor tiling in this bathroom leaves something to be desired. in color, in texture. no one chose these tiles, they had been lying around stacked out back of a Lowe’s or a Sears. they were the remainder. i forget how to do long division.

i have been snapchatting a girl about poetry and drinking, i think i’m in love with her. i actually think i’m in love with no one. it’s liberating and it’s extraordinarily boring.

a line has formed because i spent so much time in this stall studying the ground. concave metal sink. don’t look at yourself in the mirror. wave hand underneath to activate paper towel.

i would rather be almost anywhere than at this library. i dreamt i was in the waiting room of a doctor’s office and even that was better. but it transformed, grew wall-high windows and comfy couches so maybe that’s why. that’s probably why.

i feel sideways but not horizontal. i took anxiety medication today can you tell.

the eloquence of correctly aligned fluorescent lights. haha just kidding they are typical and boring, too.

i eat dinner at 4:30 now. i drink two to three cups of coffee per day. i dance in my kitchen at least three nights a week. i like laser lights. i don’t like the lighting here.

i care about this poem. i care about a boy who is outside walking with a girl. i care that i went four nights without smoking, and i care that on the fifth night i couldn’t help myself.

there’s a can of pringles on the table and i envy its poise. i wish i could be that vertical.
when the boy comes back i’ll smile and say how’d it go and i hope it was good and wow the weather is beautiful for february.

i will finish writing this poem in the back booth of the Hillman library. i’m thinking about the texture of this backrest. the pattern on the carpet. girls and boys and how it is to not feel love.

i feel like i’m floating and there’s no flat plane to lie on or axes to lean against. i feel curved and out of place.

i often forget about gravity, but i want to give it a shoutout for helping me keep still. thank you gravity for holding my molecules together. i’m not quite ready to dissolve.

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