Some Of The Ages
Prose poetry
I’m fourteen and I want to kick something over — nothing that matters — maybe a barricade — a border for the Shriners and their tiny Cadillacs — maybe the act of getting older and wanting to say I’ve still got it brings out this aggressive side
the want for attention competes with a silent yoga retreat — aren’t I supposed to be on sabbatical by now? wasn’t I supposed to be debt-free by fifty? I have two months to decide if this is how it goes, if there is a time limit, if this is a race
turn the page, and I’m sixteen, meeting politics for the first time — a girl on her mom’s shoulders — the Woodstock generation showing me variety in activist signs — such art to fight with — I could get into this way — keep abortion safe and legal —
I can hang out with boys — I will hang out with boys — bubble-letters all the way to the Supreme Court — if my dad could see us now — we could be cat-called and not mind it — as long as we win.
Samantha Lazar 2024
