I'd always tried too hard
To live up to some schema
In my head.
But always scratching at my door
Was my morbidly obese cat lady self,
Who knits her own sweaters
And stocking caps.
I paint sunflowers now
On the columns of my portico,
But only the front side,
For I never go behind.
And am I happier now, you ask,
That I became what the DNA seeds
And the greenhouse effect produced from me?
No. I'm not.
But since I'm allergic to life and death,
I wonder about parallel universes,
And I hope.
-jenn
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