I Understand How Gatsby Felt

I'm awful sure

I never liked that damned book;

I always rushed through chapters

so I could read anything else

before the bell rang.

But when I open the windows nowadays

to replace my air with something else

I understand everything he was searching for.

Bright lights alien from saltwater

peeking out from neighborly gates

gleaning my eyes through brambles on the east side

all I do is reflect over where I went wrong

and how hard it has been

to navigate rich waters-

cracked spine, dog eared-

back to page one,

and I think

I understand how Gatsby felt.