I walk into my room,
the door shuts behind me.
I am in my own world
I kick off my shoes,
-they lie in a geometric pattern
on the floor
I am 16 years old.
It is snowing,
it is dark,
and the god of December
has fallen across this land.
The snow swirls and swirls and swirls,
endlessly and forever in my inner darkness.
'God, I hope we don't have school tomorrow, ' I think to myself
I know all 16 year olds think this very thought,
but somehow it is different when I think it.
I am different, and alone-
Alone, and different
Sometimes I can't believe that I'm me.
Snow falls down around the museum in my mind-
I see a picture in my mind of the art museum at Bowdoin College,
as though there is a postcard in my mind
I feel as though I am the last person on earth,
even though my parents are in the next room
Everything is quiet.
Everything is snow.
There is a light on, beside my bed,
a solitary light in the world
I look out my window
The world is still quiet,
and the stars peak out from behind the clouds,
like a map in the night
There is an ocean in the sky,
and it is as though the gods
are illuminated in heaven
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem