LIVE TO TELL

If the worthiness
of living
is in telling, then
tell me everything.
Your father watches
Alla Pugachora on
Russian TV,
and you were born to
a no-story place,
so the beach
is wide and vacant
with many sticks
to draw new lines.

Now let me tell you
about the party.
The birthday belonged
to an uptight long-hair
turning 40
so the night was all
songs from 1974.
Somehow, I survived.
You know, I never feel
“like a woman”
until there’s only
two of us
and though we're strangers
we find each other
and drink all the beer
while everyone else
mourns the 90s
at the Tiki bar.

You are better
than most things - 

so good to me -
though you’ve caught me
in my shedding time,
and so of course
I’m shining.