Somedays, I wish (at 11:11)
to write something else
in the Name: spot
and why couldn't I be that
ordinary beautiful, that
like those Julias,
the obsession of him,
the secret of another
with nights in that stale room
and sitting in muddy water
or that gunshot echoes,
just write, with that inky black blood,
name: julia (not my own)
like that river in Switzerland
or why can't I be that
curioser-and-curioser girl,
those oversized-overcolored flowers
with raindrops of teardrops
and all those named Alice
looking at me (anonalice)
that was never hers,
I don't want to be your last recording
or the girl in the back of the room,
I'm just that somewhat-artsy kid
when I write these poems,
that girl looking for a boy,
I'm just.