Girl Most Likely To

Let me be the first to tell you I’ve forgotten
what it was I wanted to say.
The words I’d been saving squandered elsewhere.
Which is to say, I lost them.
Which is to say, they turned on me.
They ran away with a younger paragraph.

What pins me down are expectations
heavy as a sentence, amid glum reminders
that the good things don’t come to you;
they must be sought and taken
by force, if it comes to that.

All I’m bringing home are hours and a mastery
of unnecessary things.
A fish reeled to a boat and released.
A flair for acquiring food stains
on all my favourite T-shirts.
The art of wringing busy days from empty minutes.

Will the talent most likely to succeed please stand up.