I am growing up now. I appreciate “nightgowns,”
adore a quiet street, only munch my cracker
sandwiches in secret. I hide my farts, fear
Chase Checking, have flex spending. I ate
 
a rice cake. I spit it out, begged on the street, spent
that cash on pills. Belched on the train, tore up
Bleeker in a rag dress and wore genie pants to bed.
Everyone has a breaking point, I said. Can’t call
that a cake. I bought a vanity vibrator. It’s made-to-order,
 
fitted to me, my O. I named it Aladdin. I am growing
up now. I chomped down a tree from leaves to roots
just to watch an old man cry and I spit it
to the wind like the mama bird I am, I am.