"Where am I and what have I done with myself?"

I ask myself from the bowling alley bathroom.

I've been reading a fascinating play

In the privacy of a center stall.

But I'm going to have to re-enter the throng sometime.

I've already had two people ask to borrow my bra.

I should never come here, alone, I know, 

But they have the best french fries in town.

In dreams I come naked to

The bowling alley and actually bowl.

People notice, but let me be.

Sometimes it's cold in here,

And I put on a coat,

And the other bowlers show obvious relief.

I think I should write a play about this, and 

The moral will be, "Live and let live,"

And the title will be, "What Women Want,"

And maybe someone will read it in the bathroom,

And maybe someone will weep

At the beautiful ideas I've proposed.

-jenn