birthday poem no. 1

staying in, because you have work to do,
even though you've been writing about conventional people,
ex-public-schoolers,
who go to parties and drink,
not to excess but just for fun,
who you might understand,
sometimes,
in your dysfunctional little way

staying in, getting your free ice cream and then coming right back,
reading the whole time,
taking a shuttle bus seat next to a four-year-old black girl with glasses who can't stop staring at your astronomy textbook

coming right back,
even though you have been seeing people with bags from the new department store
have been talking to your sort-of-friend,
who you took pictures of wrapped in a rainbow flag once for the newspaper,
vaping while she waits for her Uber to pick her up
have been hearing about hookah bars and the 18+ gay club in Boston


listening to Zeppelin,
copy-pasting citations into a bibliography,
you could transform your hidden cash into any capitalistic spoils you wanted

but you won't