CC Bloom Poet Free verse

I Dream of Diaries

I wrote when I was a young girl
and each entry ended with
“It was a good day”
because it was
and tomorrow was a present
wrapped in ribbon

I dreamt again
that I was swamped by customers
ordering drinks I cannot make
and food I cannot translate
while trying to keep everyone happy
while sneaking away to read
the diary of eight-year-old me
to puzzle together why she became
the lost waitress

My diaries had dainty locks
and charming keys
for little hands

They are in a box
with yearbooks
in an attic
full of cheap nostalgia

I wrote my sentences
in pencil

I cannot feed and care
for all the caged animals
(there are too many per cage)
The floor never promised
to hold me

I once collected pencils too
and grouped them based on
popularity

I didn’t have friends,
I had unsharpened pencils
and erasers that came
from vending machines

I learned to fill the quiet
and danced in negligee
to David Bowie’s ‘China Girl’

When his voice broke,
I felt his falling
and stretched my fingertips
high to a  popcorn ceiling

“It’s in the way of my eyes!”

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