poem: crying after a fight with my mother, twenty-twenty

in the autumn far-away
i read a portrait of the artist as a young man
under the trees, under the university
and i was not
the drama, the failure. waiting
outside the daycare, an after-something
job for the boring, earbuds and trite tragic
music wrapped around my skull.
i stayed very late
in cafes, no-whip-cafe-mocha
and scholarship questions, dreaming
hopelessly and i — dropped
the history minor
because i wanted my innocence and
idealism intact, what an
ironic joke — between
the psychiatry and modernity
you know, you’re probably right
i am unhappy because i
am a woman
in a world that wants me
as a man. fuck
the liberation / i am too
free i am rattling around
in my wasted youth
please please take
destroy
& deconstruct
(the monster, the villain,
she enters on fire, it is
her).

hi are you still up. can we talk? i don’t want to end
like this.

i’m sorry