When boys see movies alone

when boys see movies alone, they become men
by the closing credits
which wash over them like meaningful rain

a girl becomes a woman when she edits her resume with a cruel attitude
when she wounds the dragon during the solstice she does not believe in

a man becomes a woman during exciting, torturous months
in the privacy of his cabin

I knew a boy who became a beast before he could become a man
and a girl who became a puddle and then a horse
and then a serious dog and then a baby with womanly ways
and then a woman

Can you find me?

I’m in my parents’ house
where part of me remains
I’m on white sheets
for real
I am
my finger smells like the most dangerous perfume
I’m nude as a painting
did you know I’m addicted to email?
I am
I once bought a taxidermied frog on eBay
it was dressed like a policeman
I gave it to my first boyfriend
where’s it now?
somewhere among the chaos
ground into bits
last night I flirted with a dude by giving him my social security number
have you ever tried that?
my hair is so unkempt that just I felt like Kurt Cobain
as I stepped over the yoga mat and checked out my boobs in the mirror
John is in Silentland with the teen monks
do you know John?
he is the sweetest
his neck is a place
he’s got great hair
he almost never channels Kurt Cobain
he’s more like Harpo
or Olive Oyl
I had to Google the spelling of that
do you ask your most embarrassing questions on Incognito tabs in Chrome?
I do
I ask about love and read the message boards
I love reading frantic wtf messages from women about to be married
I like the desperation
and the frankness
I like when the original poster returns to the board to update us
I like being part of “us”
I’m wearing my mouth guard now
can you hear the difference?
a naked woman talking like a little girl is like something you see in a circus
in the natural circus
like a mother with food on her nose
or two catfish quietly in love

The World of Manet

can’t find the draft of my new poem The World of Manet
that I wrote on the Metro-North last month
after finding and taking art books from a box on the street
in Hastings-on-Hudson
where I adventurously left my car

a couple weird hours with those books
dragging my own little art history with me
feeling super dignified on the train
gazing at forgotten works...