The Curl in Me

Does it bother you
That I giggle when I live
Poems, full of glee,

Do you roll your eyes at my jeans
Stained bareback brown and orange bike
Hauled up three flights of stairs?

Are you offended
That my eyes taste the sky, naturally,
That wind’s blush tints my cheeks,

Do you look away
As I dash to class under a blue rucksack
Windbreaker, green crocs

As I eat brussel sprouts,
Rye Bread, 10pm in bed,
To run weights to the nosy sun?

Ah, I see it in your eyebrows
When I speak in class,
When my pants don’t squeeze my thighs

When I don’t own an accentuating dress,
When my banquets hike on mountains,
When I grin at your hinting flattery—

I see it bothers you
That my ironed, desiccated, hair
Will skip back home to curls

Joyful, no matter what you say,
Content, ambiguous,
After soaking up the rain.