Day 31- 10.17.20

I was most myself then, I think

I was most myself

when I was a nanny

drowning in student loans

desperate to be taken seriously

as an artist.

Sometimes, now,

I feel more like a car radio

than anything else.

No one really listens and

that’s okay, see, because

I’m compensated.

I’m compensated

and reminded often

to be grateful

to not speak too truthfully and

to put on lipstick for client calls.

In the evenings

and in the mornings too

I remember the joy I felt

burping him when he was a newborn

discovering his sense of humor

watching him learn to pick his head up

and crawl and stand and walk and run

and throw tantrums and laugh and laugh and

I think about how I felt each night

riding home on the subway,

lyrics written in pen

on the back of my hand,

checking my bank statements when stopped

above ground, scared shitless about

how rent would get paid—

well sometimes I miss it so much

it makes me want to fucking cry.