Confessions

I did not eat the egg roll you made me for lunch today
I just waited until you were asleep and brushed it into the toilet bowl,
And watched it wash away.
I didn't tell you that because you might think
I do not love you,
which would be very, very untrue

I confess I believe in horoscopes
I read the horoscopes of all my friends
then watch them closely,
try to line up what they do with what I've read is their destiny
I read the horoscopes of all my friends
because it feels like I'm being let
in on one of their secrets and
That makes me less scared.

I'm scared of my friends, so I like to pretend
to know more than I do
to pretend I have figured them out

I confess I want to know what it feels like to be bald
And I silence my cellphone when I know I'm getting called

I confess that the winter feels like a throbbing time-bomb
A noose slipping toward my throat
The silent sinking of a boat
I used to not know if
I would make it to tomorrow

But I am safe now
Safe with plan-wondering how
I'll learn past public education
Find non-driving transportation
Find a man, maybe
or a house
or both

It's a common enough hope but
it throws me off my feeble track
the track in danger of disappearing, fast
like the marks of a chain
I still press against my wrist,
where the cold feels the warmth
and I just can't resist
it's a mystery I can't describe
how I will live my short-long life

I search the horoscope for some
secular-godly voice to speak but
all it says is 'you may be emotionally torn at midweek,'
as if, the rest of the time I am emotionally
put together
and I laugh because my mood
is permanent inclement weather

I have a calendar now
I take notes in my classes
then fold them up,
let the ink merge and ooze like molasses

I cut up newspapers and pasted smiling people in my room last fall
the times I cry are coming less and less, if at all
but I frown all the time and I must confess
I have the feeling this clearing only
heralds the rearing of
Another great mess.