No, I’m not doing well

I came here

for art, for energy, for community, for people like me, done with

“accidental” pregnancies and tiny weddings and Trump rallies

and surely, maybe

I’d meet more men

in a city of 700,000.

Bursting with creativity

I came here.

Now I’m stuck

in this ugly gray

where walking down the sidewalk in a straight line

is an Olympic sport

and nobody

knows how to drive,

beating back screaming homeless

and rude Chinese ladies

and I didn’t ask for this.

I didn’t fucking ask for this.

I’m tired

of mixers, classes,

being proactive,

waiting on men

who remain passive

and I’m twenty-two again

waiting around

waiting still

and nothing

has changed.

Meanwhile, my church

pays lip service to loving singles,

all around me married people

making plans, making visits,

making time,

and sure-okay-I-guess-

you’re-invited-but

holy-shit-what

will-we-talk-

about.

Stuck

in small talk-

“What do you do?

Did you just move?