You wake from the same dream
where you get fat
& to your shock you give birth
to your old cat
your neighbor’s snoring
hear the parakeet
sit by the window
& stare down at the street
sunrise grey & orange streaks
thirty more weeks
The morning train
the crush & sound
it’s seventeen stops
before you get downtown
your stomach’s queasy
with flashes of heat
but maybe once that belly shows
you’ll get a seat
it roars & it creaks
thirty more weeks
Check rental listings
on your lunch at work
you could have a real house
if you just left New York
a vegetable garden
a white picket fence
closer to mom
& reasonable rents
a happy place for childhood memories
thirty more weeks
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