day poem

I wake up late and too warm kick off the blankets open the window
and see three messages
one says "cake! where are you?" more or less so I respond
to that one it's the happiest
and stand beneath some cold water
and braid my hair
and talk about philosophy for an hour
a girl tells me she kissed a boy last night
and we act like girls once did for a few blocks before remembering
we're modern and don't care
and straighten up
our laughter hides
we go to lunch with friends and pay $5 apiece
and then it rains and suns at the same timeand we walk discussing nakedness and things our parents did
I sit in a courtyard reading Spanish phrases
and brushing seeds off pages
and arguing about what is good luck
(bird shit I say, you're skeptical)
at dinner it's morality, peanut butter baked goods, what age we should get married
then the German language department and I look
at the records of serious, purple Schoenberg. someone put him in a box.
we pick our favorites from the magazine until everyone else leaves
I call my mother and her voice sounds like the breezeher best friend from college still hasn't sold
her mystery novels I should make those appointments
have I yet I haven't
I sit on a bench with one of you, quietly
I walk around in the night, alone, buy myself a free iced coffee
but it's too warm in my room still, the day too flawed
novels never sleep I realize at novel-reading hour
I check their spines and sure enough they're faking it, all of them

CDL