I usually notice thrift stores

whose windows beckon me inside.

I typically take the long way home

when I simply need to cry.

I always breathe and I always blink

’cause if I stopped I would be dead.

I sometimes shiver in the heat,

sometimes waver when ahead.

Typically, always, never.

Sometimes even still.

I tick this way, I’m organized

’round a life of patterned thrill.

I usually wake on Sundays

with lazy stretch in bed.

I sometimes wake on Mondays

with an ache upstairs instead.

I always eat the chocolate

and I sometimes sip the wine;

I’ve stayed up late, I’ve set alarms,

I’m typically on time.

Typically, always, never.

Sometimes even still.

I tick this way, I’m organized

’round a life of patterned thrill.

I never run with scissors

but I always sprint my block,

‘specially when my miles are

a race against the clock.

I sometimes take the sample,

but usually smile saying no.

I eat my greens, I take down notes,

I like my mornings nice and slow.

Typically, always, never.

Sometimes even still.

I tick this way, I’m organized

’round a life of patterned thrill.

I’ve kissed the boys I wanted

and some of the girls, too.

I sometimes think about the time

in Tokyo’s lonely room.

I always prefer the company

of dogs and cats and fish.

I’ve never fully understood

the makeup of a wish.

I typically like sunrise

and feel sorrow when it sets.

I always compete in checkers,

but rarely do in chess.

I sometimes write with fervor

and I sometimes write with ease.

But I never know what way to go

’til the path’s in front of me.

Typically, always, never.

Sometimes even still.

I tick this way, I’m organized

’round a life of patterned thrill.

Artwork by Kristi Standley