Friday Night

So my night is:
An electronic device
A half a box of chocolate raisins
Two—count them—cadbury eggs
A packet and a half of
Peanut m&ms
A book that I won't remember
A week from now
Popcorn and a
Glass of water
Pajamas
By nine o'clock
Covers
And a cat
Zero social interaction
Aside from occasional pats to his head
And he doesn't even count
I wonder sometimes
At sixteen should these be my nights?
Or should I be out with my
Nonexistent car-driving friends
Stirring up trouble for
Somebody else
(but I'm not like that)
Or should I be pulled flush against
A boy who keeps his arm around me
Despite it being uncomfortably hot
In the movie theater
(but I'm not like that)
Or should I be
I don't know
Studying for the SATs looming over the hill?
The SATs I haven't even begun
Or longed to
Touch upon
I figure I'll get there
When I do
Without ever having any
Desire to
(but I'm not like that)
Or should
Quite simply
My night be staying in with a group of
Best friends
Or just one would be enough
Talking over boys that
Again, don't exist
Panting nails when we know by
Morning they'll be chipped
And I don't even like painting nails
That well
But I don't—
Okay, I don't have that
Any of that
And I don't—
I really don't mind
I tell myself I probably should
But I guess—
I guess it's my life
And I guess—
It's my Friday night

Music Note

Drawn on the
Inside of my wrist
Stark against my
Pink-tinted skin
She was the only one
I mentioned it
To
"That's right on the bone—
It would really hurt"
"How long would it take"
"Twenty minutes or so"
I think I could deal
I like the way it looks there
Petite and unassuming
Tagging me forever with a
Subtle declaration of what matters
Why I am attracted to
Things that strike others
Sick with sensibility
Never mind a second opinion—
"Haha.
You'd be mad when
You look down
At forty
And saw it
There"
Probably
My forty-year old self is
Wondering how
Even in this moment
But I'm glad for it now

Muse

Forbidden place to write poetry
I let myself go there with you
Thinking deeply over matters that will never matter
Another second wasted on you
And my head it hurting in an unpleasant way
Unrelated to you
And I try to think of a name and it comes:
That you are simply a muse

Fit

I saw the
Tag
And thought
No way
I saw the
Tag
And
Not today
Ran through my head
Or possibly ever
It's insane
I'll have to come out
And proclaim
I need a
Size bigger
Or two
So I'll
Surreptitiously sneak
Off and
Try this thing
They feel actually
Not tight in my legs
And I'm in kind of disbelief
Muddled victory
Maybe it's just because they're
Stretchy
And I'm shocked
In a way that only a girl can be
These cute things
Fit me
Perfectly

Happy

Row upon row of
Them
Cataloged from the time
My parents were
The same age as me
To the age I am
That they were
Then

Further back
If you drift lower beside
Stickers:
J'aime, St. Clair
And I mean that
A bit

A break
Pale pink background
I can no longer bear to repaint

Smiling
Parallel to each other a
Three-year-old me
Grinning broadly at the camera
Seven inches down there she is
At sixteen
Grinning broadly at the camera

Friends on each side I had never
Anticipated coming
They spill out in webs of memories all across

Arms open to a foggy lake
Sand just visible beneath a
Murky surface that piques
A reveled-in fear
Water you can drink

Carried along the
Glass tops of
A proud bear suspended
In green
Mom hung them when I
Asked for a room makeover
Went for a week and
Came back to a rearranged
Fortress

Checkered bedspread that
Still makes me think of Dorothy
That I don't use to this day
A gorgeous display
A polar bear in movement
Who passed later

I took down two and put them in a drawer
In the hopes of making room for more
And anyway, skim slightly
Over a mirror which has tape
And a little pocket
With a two-dollar bill
That used to hold a one as well and
To this day
It hurts that I gave in
And gave it away
So I try not to think about it and

There is a movie ticket
With a date scrawled in
Sugar-ant-sized letters
Two tickets to the
American Girl place
In Chicago
I never got to redeem
My grandmother
Beautiful and
Probably seventeen
Wearing those old-fashioned swimsuits
I'm dying to get for myself
Smiling with her friends

And more pictures beneath
The one above her
On a stately steed
Rearing back to smile at the camera
Seemingly unfazed
So much changes
Every day
The corner of which overlaps
A Christmas photo from last year
Me and my brothers
Hair shorter than now
Beaming at the camera
In front of the tree

But move past the mirror
Which I only have the tiniest space
Carved out to look into
And see the girl I am surrounded by
Who everyone she loves used to be
To find the only bit of
Pop-culture paraphernalia
This room contains
Not entirely commonplace
Aside from
Okay
The cup on the bookshelf
Then below

Baby pictures
And in rows
Snapshots from the
80s
Big hair
Forever smiles
Unchanged lives
Further up a
Parody of those photos
I realize unintentional

The daughters of the now-women
Then-girls
In them
Big hair
Faked smiles because
The first picture was not quite
Decent enough
Bright red lipstick
Next to it
Another moment captured
Of the girls I've known
For a while now

Jut two across on the left
And a moment in time mid-jump
Screencaptured
I didn't dare go very high
For fear of landing wrong
While she's
Leaping crazy next to me
It's a scarily accurate depiction
Of who we are
Although that I am
Level headed
Comes out
Fortunately
And that she is
A controlled kind of crazy
Comes out
We bounce off each other
I laughed when I landed
And I look back

And believe I've gotten everything aside from the
Never gonna happen
But boy was it fun while it lasted
Alongside a bulletin board
Birthday gift
Thumb-tacked with
A sweet typewriter letter from
A girl I've only seen once
Layers upon layers—

A photo-booth strip
Laughing two weeks ago over
How we'd changed—

A card
Unintentional Identical twins
With missing front teeth
Newspaper clipping

It's all there
To greet me every time I glance up it's all
There for me

My life
Their lives
Coinciding in
Perfect harmony

And it makes me
Happier
And it makes me
Happy

Little Later

This is ever-changing
Coming in and out of focus
On a camera that refuses
To zoom in
Brazenness has taken hold
Not hurt feelings—more like bold
Declarations when you're
Telling me a different story
Separately
I don't see it at all
How hard is it
I cannot fathom
To just do what makes sense
And not be swept away by
The heat of the moment
I don't know
And I kind of hope you'll cringe later
When you think back to the words you said
And—maybe my priorities should have been different
The easy thing is
Mostly what's not right
I wish at times that apologies would never be made
For the way we are—
I just am
And you too
Keep doing what you do
And see how it sits with your conscience
Later

True

I've fallen into a curious habit
Of actually writing about some matters
That pertain to me
Here I turn over my
Personal stories
It's a lot more frightening
Than if I just cranked out
A good few that tell tales
That originated in my brain
But from that, I suppose
There is not much to gain
If I'm not being real there is
No way to relate
Back to you
And I guess that's my mission in
Baring my soul
Open for scrutiny
Up to be sold
To the highest bidder
To the kindest critique
Each one comes around
In its time to shake me
And send my eyes reeling
Up towards the sky
Lord, did I write that
Really
Funny part, about life

Wait

That smile stills the frenzy in my chest
And plants a gainless longing in its place
Everything about you gives and
With your trademark sparkle takes
From so many
Yet we stay
Rooted to our places just in case
Rooted to our places
And we wait