girlhood.

I guess it's just something
I thought would pass with
time.
The whole world said it.
They conspired from the very beginning.
Lined it out.
Stacked it up.
Here's the path. Do it right.
I must have really thrown them
for a loop
those few years in college
when I made a deal with myself
to only date married men.

But I stopped.
Because one of them decided to marry
me.

And so now I'm wondering
when the growing up happens.
And what does that mean?
I look at the calendar and
I can see the years,
but the 7th grade handwriting of a girl
so full of longing that
she would sell her soul to Satan himself,
still fills my bookshelves.
And the girl who gets drunk
and naked
and jumps into the nearest body
of water
seems to consistently make her presence known.
And it's doubtful she's tired
of her late night tirades.

I'm beginning to think this "growing up" thing
is a figment someone's tried to sell us
Like June and Ward,
with her Valium and OJ.
And maybe this step,
this committing and this trying,
is something that will only make me
that much more alive.
So maybe it is a growing--
but a perpetual means in itself,
not an end.