Recently while reading my dinosaur erotica poem
at a festival I thought, Is this it? Is this the life I wanted
when I was a child? To grow up to tell
the world’s longest dinosaur dick joke
to rooms full of strangers? Well no. Of course not.
Though it’s true I loved dinosaurs and often
would visualize their bones deep below me in the earth
wherever I walked, my thoughts were not sexual.
Mostly I wanted to stop wearing those awful sweaters
with appliqué cats and collars my mother brought
home from Northern Reflections. I wanted,
if I’m honest, to be smarter than anyone. I wanted
a journal with a lock but when I got one I wrote in it
only once, recording in my best third-grade cursive:
This Book Belongs to Kayla Czaga.
Whenever I said something embarrassing
I wanted to switch schools or sail to ...