Me, in a Nutshell

At night, when I’m restless,

I make up a list of things.

Of things I wish I could do,

Of places I wish I could go.

Not of regrets of days past,

Though they creep into my mind.

I try to think of what I’ve done

To make someone else’s lot better,

Or what I haven’t done to make it worse.

I’ve never toilet-papered a house,

Never doorbell ditched an unpleasant surprise.

Mostly, I’ve done nothing too bad.

I’ve never broken curfew without asking to stay out late,

Or lied about where I was or who I was with.

When I was younger I didn’t cheat on math tests

Or  stick gum on the underside of tables.

I didn’t cut class when there was a horrible sub,

Nor switch names and desks.

I’ve never insulted anyone on purpose,

Killed anyone’s pet when I was pet-sitting,

Made a fool of someone in front of a crowd,

Or spoken too loud at a play.

In movies I’m quiet; I obey all the rules,

I haven’t yet killed someone for hurting me.

I’ve never done drugs,

Or stolen from a drug store,

Or cut out part of a race,

Or not returned a library book on time.

I discover as I make my list that there’s a lot I haven’t done

But, what’s important now is where I decide to go from here.