I watch your step
You see me cry
You send it back
I wonder why
Am I
Just not tough enough

Watch me closely
No lessons
Nothing learned, no
Forgetting
Maybe
If I were a kid

And that fear, that
Panic which swells
In ladies’ stomachs
And fills powder rooms
With sweat
Which leads us back to powder rooms
And then to dinner
Which we cannot taste through the panic

So you can either
Needle point your life away
Or you can throw
The hair dryer
In the bath tub