today
Willful rebellion against my
Saturday alarm
leaves me powerless to “get ready.”
One quarter of a cupcake later
and I tread the morning,
the orange and yellow road
of dead leaves
leading to the subway
makes no sound.
(I get where I need to be
before I need to be there,
on top of my game
inspite of myself.)
Elevated conversation
in yesterday’s jeans.
At Target, I show Corina the earings
I will give to her
when she comes to her own
and declares herself
Queen of the Taranchula Farm.
I absorb Billy Collins on the downtown express.
Your love cannot fulfill me,
I announce in my head
to no one in particular.
If it could,
I would die, and you would resent
my corpse.
I get off the train and wonder
if there will be time to straighten my hair.
Across from me on the platform
is the beautiful boy
who also got on the train at 200th
and is now waiting for the local, reading
“How to Win Friends and Influence People,”
which I occasionally read,
cover always conspiciously folded over
so no one else knows.
At 110 we both exit,
metaphors of Edward Hopper sunlight
reconstruct my thought patterns
as I look back to confirm he’s no longer behind me.
Basil plant in one hand,
groceries in the other,
I clutch my purse and run
out of sync with the flashing red hand
