shifting

I go outside, it's the winter solstice
I get in my car, the earth's tilt is and always will be 23.5 degrees
I empty my purse and pockets,
the same 12 songs play over and over.
I'm a little wilting flower
needing re-potting and some water
I lost an hour, gained an hour and lost it again
water pouring quickly from a ceiling of a cave
but I'm an adult with a degree that doesn't need the beach?
please.
I'm still made of all wanderlust and wave shaped things
made of balloons in beds, hastily prepared meals and
the entire candy isle
made of dreams I had when I was thirteen,
new york lofts and sports cars
binge drinking and the glow of a cigarette butt tossed out of the car window.
made of the sparkles in the street.

What I'm trying to say is,
you grow up and you figure out what you want sometimes
but twenty two is not old enough to settle
even though I'm scared I might never.
And is this ok?
Dreams of Thailand and Florida and a backpack and pillow probably
aren't the right way, but there isn't a right way.
No straightaway to the arms of your one and only,
no guarantees to snuff out the lonely
unpredictable moments that someday could happen and kick sand in your mouth.
I'm in in doubt with this path, I'm scared.

What I'm saying is I want to go to the grocery and witness a massacre and strangle my pets and eat potato soup for an entire week and not sleep and have a home with everyone I know, but leave in the night always to  different lights and rivers and lakes. I want comfort and comforters and pillows and blankets and driveway fires and trees and piles of leaves and the sun and a cat and made up mixed drinks and a way to be stable and   stoked all at once.
I love the whole world. I love my natural resources. I love gloves and science and laying in the lawn. I want too much but maybe, maybe, it's not too much to ask the world for.