I want to behave enviably at all hours of the day
especially while alone, doing only dainty things
and breeding jealousy. On the couch I have tea,
which I hate, but which makes you a woman.
Thankfully, buttered toast is also dainty, especially
with jam with jam with jam. Especially
with a record playing and alone. And that’s a thing
I’ve mastered: acting alone. Oh me oh me and sipping.
My arm my arm and greenery—the plants in the window
growing for the sake of it.
Have I done it yet, acted perfectly? And, now accomplished,
am I done forever, or must I repeat—side a side b and coffee,
side a side b and legs crossed.
To be pretty, one must have no money
but be always in a new dress. Have no money
but always drinking gin with lavender. It’s easy
until I catch my reflection. It asks “wherefore?”
and drops a glass on the sidewalk. It says “I know you.”
and makes a rude gesture.