I worry about what my Cowboy would tell me — Alara Egi

thought I had willpower but it   fizzled  away
a pink effervescent tablet,
my dreams became shape-shifters, I let myself want 
what I would see, my ambition
filled my palms and i tucked it between my ribs

I decided to write a long poem, an epic with few line breaks 
that takes up the space my body couldn’t
next to students that were chosen in the yearbook
“most likely to actually be Clark Kent”

I didn’t want to own my story anymore, so i decided to forget 
my face     I watched the Breakfast Club to enter the Teenage Dream:
because happiness is 
a choice  am I right, Ladies?

in an alternative universe, tonight
I became a Man-genius,
feeding chicken pot pie to my pet chicken and writing fiction
I got rid of my makeover-girl glasses and became a Man-genius, 
whose careless youth and potential let him get away.

I never had a gun-pulling contest in kindergarten, nor a cowboy friend— 
if I had One,
They could’ve taught me how to be all grab-and-take-and-don’t-give-back
and they would give me generic advice:
“be yourself” and I would 
listen, before each word I wouldn’t 
give a pause to make sure they’re the right words
model child, “you’re my Number One girl” words,

            I will choose
to touch  My face to remind myself, that, yes
these stress pimples, dried  bitten lips, these eyes
all belong to me at the end

            sometimes I have to work even harder
to remind myself that underneath these puddles and hair there’s a heart,
beating like ice in a food processor, cracking and thumping against the walls
and my ribs remind me of wings &        
                       I  believe  for a split second
if I tried really hard, 
I could float over rows of suburban houses & cone shaped trees & 
family cars, like the  fading  actor  in that film some years ago.