I was having a dream

In which a plucky young female character

Was technically homeless but had three or four safe places to sleep

And was still going to high school

But still had an income somehow

To buy the things she needed

And was going to rule the world.

But I woke up because I needed to pee

And I know that nothing counts unless you write it down

And I didn’t want the obnoxiously loud ticking from the second hand of my wristwatch

To tick away the seconds for her as well as for me

Until I die of lymphoma;

I wanted at least one of us to survive

So now this poem exists.