Some Girls
She is first the girl next door–
goody-goody, giggly,
pigtails and penny loafers.
She is then a 9 to 5 job,
doing the best with what you got
for mushy meatloaf tv dinners.
She is love at first sight, a
stay at home wife –
ding-dong-doorbell –
“Hi honey, I’m home!”
She is a bun in the oven,
pink for girl,
blue for boy,
bottles, burps, and mobiles.
She is daddy’s little girl –
goody-goody, giggly,
pigtails and penny loafers.
She is not sleepover secrets girls keep –
“practicing,”
no complaints when you linger a little longer.
She is not lost
in the dichotomy of gender binary –
reject pink, crew cut, stuck in tomboy mode.
She is not
on a pilgrimage to Noho,
reading herstories of Woolf,
blasting Maddow on Air America.
She is not on late night dates
like bees create viscous honey,
the persistent passing of nectar,
bee to bee.
She is not the daughter disowned
because she found her home
in the Rubyfruit Jungle.
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