In the morning I become a bear

My outfits vary, but I have yet to retire the scuffed pair of black Blundstones my mother handed down to me

Her feet are too small and mine are just a little too big

I’m blistering all over

And I want to go home

I’ve been trying to make progress on a book my first-cousin-once-removed gifted to me

It’s a collection of selected poems and commentary on Emily Dickinson

I’ve never enjoyed Dickinson

But I need her to believe I tried

My contributions to the family are lacking, and I’m always in my little sister’s shadow

I wonder what they wished I’d be

I hope I didn’t let them down too much

I broke a pencil marking my height on my bedroom wall today

Nothing much has changed

I’m still the tallest girl in the world

The wall used to be marked up floor to ceilling

But my father tore it down and painted over what was left

Just so we could fit more summer shoes under the 6x3 French “Pianos Daude"

I never liked that poster, but I obliged

Packed up my stuff and watched the world get smaller

Under the shelter of some ugly swallows

We never changed the wall color, and I liked it that way

Why does the food coop now sell raspberries larger than my pinky toe?

I’ve peered in to almost every shop on 7th Avenue

Looking for a faceless someone to entertain my long walk

I’ve grown to detest the chain stores along my route home

But recently I’ve enjoyed the one-way encounters turning down 8th

Even in the mornings

Looking as I do

A silent rage between my bear teeth

In the process of writing the clock in my peripheral has changed from 2:54 PM to 2:55 PM

Time refuses to wait for me

But I’m almost ready, I promise

I’ve laced up my braids and put on my best smile

It is 2:57 PM

Time to go