Tiaras

I was really good

at being a teenager.

I can still do it, be crazy

in love, maybe with myself,

maybe with my youth,

less visible than last century,

but still dancing inside me,

money burning flags,

I’ve given up babysitting

the feelings of adult children,

alcoholics, perpetual victims

who think they can dump shame on me,

like porcine blood on the prom queen.

I don’t need a fucking tiara from you.

I have my own.