poem i wrote on my birthday

it’s my birthday 
and i’m at the botanical gardens
sweating in a cheap pink dress
limping in pointed toe boots
forever an only child
“you should have worn pants like everyone else”
i hear in the back of my head
it is also mother’s day. 

it’s my birthday
and i’m blocking foot traffic taking selfies with a cactus
“i think this is the year i finally connect with nature”
i say to mariya
then ask when we can go to target
mariya is the best kind of friend
(used to me)
she yells at me for my low phone battery
i feel less like an only child.

it’s my birthday and i’m at the self checkout
spending $172 on two colored lightbulbs 
so i can recreate the atmosphere 
of a good conversation i had once
every nice thing that happens
i need to do at least a second time
that’s why i can never have just one bagel
or be the first to say goodbye.

it’s my birthday 
and you’re back in the city 
and back in my bed 
sweating in your new old polo shirt 
you love things other people had first 
my dress is on the floor
with you there is no one else i can be. 

-rachel