At Twenty Two

This poem was a prompt for a class in which we had to imitate another poem. I chose to imitate "At Thirty Three" by Hans Magnus Enzensberger. You can find the original here: http://waylaid.blogspirit.com/archive/2006/02/index.html

It was all so different from what she’d expected.
Always those dust covered photographs of bike rides in July.
Really she wanted to write, or see the world through a fish-eye lense.
At one time she’d almost left home for Bonnaroo.
Sometimes her sister sends her a postcard.
First she read Pierce, then Nietszche.
For years she was a Libertarian, but in her own way.
Ladybugs on her basil plants,
Now often she tends to the plantation on her windowsill.
With her, men make no promises they can keep.
Her last lover, the pen and paper, always held her close when they made love.
When she thinks of Charlie Kelly she smiles.
Her thesis, The Ethnobiology of the Indigenous
Peoples of Haiti from 1800 - 1980:
Books, rough drafts and a pile of post-it notes .
High school track shirts, now too tight for her.
Spontaneous dancing in her bathrobe, making faces at herself in the mirror,
Carpal tunnel from hours in front of the computer.
She’s never lived paycheck to paycheck.
She says, whatever happens, I will not regret.
When she sobs she looks like thirty-three.

Reviews

[Andromeda]

very good! love it!

[Sarah]

I liked how everything in this poem was so specific - and yet relatable, regardless. That's interesting how we're able to connect to other people, even though they may be so different from us. I liked this!