is anyone hiring?

My mascara is running at a Hopdoddy
A little stoned. One frozen marg in.
This place is so uninspired.
All looks just the same
Like any time spent right off I-35
Or at a PMC company
In a place that’s never felt like home
Wanting to tell the new graduate in the sash and the perfect hair that she can do anything in life
To believe in herself
Fear is such a waste of time
Because one day it becomes too late.
At 35 you might as well die
There’s no chance in writing a new story
You won’t have the “8 years of experience” anyway
Even though you’re old enough to.
That’s what happens when you don’t follow a track
If I only knew…
I’m young enough to live so many more lives
I wish the powers that be understood that.
And what powers are those?
I feel like I can do anything.
Can’t I?
It’s not me, it’s you.
Right?
(dramatic pause.

oh so dramatic.)

​

If I only knew….
Which is a silly way to live, young one.
I’ll be ok, now is still here
I’ll figure it out. I always do.
You’ll learn that too.
But I just remembered
As I searched for a why
That I walked into a clothing shop in the East Village once
Maybe around 26?
The designer, she created every piece, inspired.
I told her I’d be back. I wanted to write about her.
Never did.
It must have gone away… or something…
But, what if?
Another dangerous game.

I don’t want to rain on your parade,
Young one.
Don’t look over here and see my tears
You’ll have your fair share
But hopefully not these
Not at a fucking Hopdoddy
Losing what’s left of your dignity.
Fries are a salty audience anyway.

​

Just know that if I knew how to listen…
Not to them, to me.
Deeply.

​

I wish I could tell you all this

in a way that only brought hope.

​

And wouldn’t make me seem crazy.
A strange girl (woman?)
crying
At a fucking Hopdoddy.