Things You Will Only Learn About Me When It’s Too Late
Listen to me as one listens to the rain
—Octavio Paz
I wanted to grow up to be an astronaut
so I could escape the gravity of childhood.
My first crush was on the winter night sky.
In a crowd of people, mosquitoes bite me first.
Sleep was never a friend.
Barbie, a sworn enemy with her wasp waist
and long, straight blonde locks.
My dark hair never grows much below my ears.
Hula hoops and I reached a discordant truce.
I failed at everything,
some things more than once,
some things hundreds of times.
This hasn’t stopped me trying.
The forest canopy is my adopted family.
Coffee is a verb.
Poetry is breakfast.
My heartbeat aligns with Atlantic Ocean’s pulse.
Klutz, I have spent my entire life falling.
First, in love with shadow, then chiaroscuro.
Once, I pitched down a hill in a city park,
would have kept rolling forever except my head
collided with a cedar tree and stopped me—
thankfully the tree was unharmed.
I trip over words, especially goodbye.
I fell into Mathematics as a major in college
and am still solving for x.
I stumbled into the oblivion of Earl Grey
ice cream and never stumbled back out.
I teeter on the see-saw of self-love
with a fulcrum of constant panic
that balances things out nicely.
My life story is the autobiography of rain.
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