the voices were like in my head
that first semester of my final
year at the college I was
so lucky to attend.
I only remember that I felt distorted,
trapped in a bad dream
and scared to death
during that brief bell jar period.
But I had so many more choices
than she did! Was not expected
to conform to a certain model of
womanhood: marry a doctor and
start having armfuls
of cute
babies to fill a suburban home
immediately post-graduation.
And for this, I should have been
grateful, I should have been so
excited about the future and
completely sexually liberated,
feeling free, confident.
I should have been having
the time of my life and able
to make those next-year
career decisions, but instead
I couldn't even concentrate
on conversations I tried to have
in the women's locker room among
those irritatingly athletic voices
discussing everything to do
with the trivial & perky present:
papers we were writing, parties to go to,
our next game against Cal-Lutheran.
And at those endless soccer practices
there was so much exhausting
movement in that great green
sunlit expanse, and me just dying
to be lying down in beautiful
shadow of nearby trees
turning toward the dark side
of my nature, escaping
the Southern California heat
and smog and finally coming
to full sweet rest.
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