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.
I feel more like a car radio
than anything else.
No one really listens and
that’s okay, see, because
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.