That time of life when one is chronically subjected
to other people’s taste in clothing,
and loads of other things, that are
cumbersome, uncomfortable,
boring and completely beside-the-point.
As a child, the concessions you must make
start early, on an Easter morning, say –
dress and pinafore, patent leather shoes,
and a bonnet, yes, a bonnet!
Once you buy into the idea
that, as a girl, it’s your duty
to look pretty, you are sunk.
Their rationale is that
temper tantrums
disrupt your outfit,
are not ladylike
and are only for babies—bogus!
Easter, 1949 Francisco Avenue, Rogers Park, Chicago
