Long before I ever wrote plays, I fancied myself a Poet. This fancy did not last long as I was brutally REJECTED by the honors poetry track in college, for my collection that I’m pretty sure was called ‘Salad,’ how DARE. But my brain still makes them sometimes. Here’s the latest.
How did this happen?
I’m a child, still.
I pick my nose,
I crave jelly beans,
I still don’t know what I believe, and
Here I am, shoving my breasts into this machine.
The nurse asks, how old when you when you first got your period?
I reply, yesterday.