When I was twelve
I went to the theater
To see Romeo and Juliet
I cried through entire second act
I held my heart
At the beautiful parts
And couldn’t help but gasp when the colors of the lights
Were impeccably right

I felt guilty for my loose tears
Silly for my mushy heart
And lucky to be sitting in the dark

The same year
I sat in church
Pushing my hair behind my ears
In front of my ears
And back again
Surely the entire congregation was fixated on the poofyness of my hair
And were deeply entranced by my twelve-year-old beauty
I was convinced

After church, my mother informed me
That I had a problem she likes to call “imaginary audience”
Meaning that everyone else is too concerned with their own poofy bangs
To care about what my hair looks like
Or if my overalls are dumb
(They were)

Now that I am older
I weep openly at the movies
Wipe my snot on my shirt
Hiccup-cry into the diet coke straw

I’m not sure who is watching, or who cares
But I feel
Unashamed of my tears
Grateful for my sensitivity
And lucky for my mushy heart


My friend talked me into Bikram yoga
Don’t even get me started about that guy
I didn’t know before I arrived
That the class has a script
A series of descriptions for poses
That never changes

I was folded over
Ready to barf on my bare feet
Peering at the tiny window in the studio door
And dreaming of my escape
When the instructor told me to
“Put my exactly forehead to my exactly knee”

I stared at my knee
My head about two feet away from it

It was all I could do in the world
Not to tell this bag of bones
To stick her exactly thumb up her exactly ass

I careened to see my friend’s reaction
And fell onto my slick moss-squish mat

They had indeed, succeeded in matching their exactly parts
Because they’re fucking athletes

I however, am an imposter
One that wants off this boat

I’m tempted, after my fall to take up
My sweaty swamp-mat
And tie it to my neck like a cape
Throw up double middle fingers
And dance out of the room

But I stay, because I’ve been challenged

When class lets out
I explode into eye rolls and exasperated exclamations
“Can you believe those people?”

They loved it
So intense
So detoxifying

I can’t take anything seriously, their faces say
And they’re right

Tonight, you are sitting up in my bed
Our usual routine
An hour minimum
Talking about respective past
And other together-future
You talk about the new house
I stare at your eyebrows
Echo your expressions with my face
Your legs are bent
And because it feels so delightfully within reach
Touch my exactly forehead
To your exactly knee


I know it’s common for people
To sit at work for long stretches of time
I don’t care about
The statistics
Or what the doctors say
About heart disease
Or how much sooner
The office-sitters will die
I don’t care about your yoga ball
Or people and their standing desks
Or their fancy treadmills
I just want to say
That it makes me want to
Hit myself in face
With my unfolded lap top
Until my head distorts the screen