I Linger Before I’m Early
I sit outside the orthopedist office
with my seat belt strapped
while I write the saddest lines:
I hope to find someone
before my condoms expire in 2014.
I check my calendar
when I come home from a night
of men looking past brown hair.
I linger before entering parties,
prepare to accommodate introductions,
handed drinks to keep my spirit up.
I’ll take pills to swallow days
filled with attending dinner dates,
when my life should end with a bang
or a slap, like the end of a good joke.
If I die before my hair grays,
I will arrive early to my funeral
request my make-up look like
I’ve been running through the ocean,
hair knotted in salty curls—
free of the schedule
I am expected to keep.
Tracy Dimond is an MFA candidate at the University of Baltimore. She lives, writes, and runs in Baltimore, MD.