Today I didn’t go
to any of the funky cafes—
organic, vegan, artisan,
bike shop, plants—
Craving impersonal service,
urban anonymity, I came
to the chain cafe in the little mall.
Sticky tables, eggy smell,
and looks
from local matrons.
My mother’s remembered voice
says Well, you will
go around looking
like that—
But it’s this skin I feel happy in.
Yesterday on the swim-with-dolphins boat
a loud older woman loudly asked me,
Why did you cut your hair so short?
I want a reason, she said.
Much later,
the answer came.
First published in takahē 110, April 2024
Jackson 