“I’m in my third year of college…” I answered, taking a quick gulp of my wine and disguising it as a sip. (Success is finishing a bottle of Pinot Noir with two of your friends in under 15 minutes). “So, what do you want to do with your degree?” My nosey aunt said. And the words came straight out of her nose. “I… I want to be a lawyer.” (Success is believing in the existence of a free market). “I’m so smart, I know I could do it! Hashtag, girl boss.” The voice in my head continued playing like a CD. “Are they feeding you in New York? You look so thin.” (Success is a Saint, but alas, I’m a sinner). I replied, “I moved out of Rochester because I wanted to be invisible and feel free from the constraints of my past”. “You’re so pretty, why don’t you smile more?” A construction worker yells at me as I walk by. Then, my voice speaks for me again. “I hope that scaffolding falls on you, *******”. (Success is a drunk walk back home, crying on Broadway in your leather boots, and no one asking you if you’re okay).
An imitation poem I wrote for a class, based on "Stadia After All" by Sandy Brown.