MAYA MENON
I apologize in advance if this is too self-congratulatory,
but for someone who’s been afraid
of alone for at least a decade,
I’m pretty proud to say I’ve become self-sufficient.
I make my own vegetarian meals, packed with protein
so all of the concerned friends I’m blessed with
could shut up already.
I eat them alone, and messily,
sometimes while walking to work.
Nothing deters cat callers on the street
better than Thai green curry sauce on my face
and my mouth full of tofu and quinoa.
I go to museums alone, and take as much
or as little time as I want staring
at graduated drips on womens’ breasts on walls
I read the descriptions, I skip rooms
if I please, I take the stairs,
I sit at the bar alone and order an expensive drink,
and tip the bartender handsomely
I travel across the city alone, for hours,
never once thinking of the ease of a passenger seat
despite the aches in my calves and feet.
So long as I’m reaching my step goal.
I sit at parks alone and stare at dogs, and ask the owners
if I could pet them, confidently.
They almost always say yes, and if they don’t hear me
I smile and wave goodbye to the pupper at least.
I take walks through the neighborhood alone,
and observe the bird calls
and the mushrooms along the paths
the sunshine as my only friend, and reminder that
the ozone layer’s depleting
so I twist and contort my back enough,
to apply my sunscreen alone,
I look at the super moon alone,
and see that its crowded by evergreens,
and thankfully I’m so lucky to be just a single speck
amongst the darkness by the water,
while listening to music alone,
Kevin Parker’s haughty voice matches mine,
when he says “Company’s okay, solitude is bliss”
Christopher Breaux tells me to hand him a towel
he’s dirty dancing, by himself, going off tabs of that acid,
just as he’ll be singing “Solo” to me tomorrow,
when I go to a festival alone,
and I hold onto the music and the voices and the whispers
telling me this is just fine, when I turn 25 this weekend,
dancing alone, drinking alone, vibing alone.
I’ll be proud, and I’ll be self-sufficient as I am to you, tonight.
So no, I’m not lonely, just blissfully solo.
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