23.04.02 - 12:35 p.m.

the thing (plural) is (and there are several),
that i dont wish these creepy screaming
breakdowns, these strange obsessions,
foreign ways of dealing with problems like
hiding in bed all day
on anyone, least of all my best friend
(whether hes up to it or not).

its that i want a cute dress and a big party
and someone to love me forever because
grad school costs less that way, and i'll
get to spin records and be pretty and that is
my perogative no matter what i said when i
was fifteen. gloria steinem gave it up,
and that didnt make hera bad feminist.

its that i want to wear cowboy boots all the time now,
and make a wardrobe entirely out of gingham and
eyelet, pack a straw hat, my sewing machine and
typewriter and drive for twenty hours to
plant things in your front yard and write garbage
where it doesnt matter because my audience will
never ask to read it.

i want to plan elaborate dinner parties again,
kickball leagues and summer-long games of assassin
and its hard when things are dragging at your feet.

kisses and strawberry shortcake,
asteroid