29
	-------------------------------------------

	i was so afraid of 29
	i couldn't bear to recognize it
	as my own birthday.
	lonely and tired,
	i wouldn't leave the apartment
	until after dark, knowing
	i wouldn't run into 29.
	sometimes, though, 29 would 
	notice me in the halls
	and i would look at my watch, distracted
	or quickly duck into the restroom
	or turn my face towards the fountain,
	waiting for 29 to pass.
	when 29 would find me anyway,
	i could barely refrain from hostility
	and would face 29 with tight lips,
	sentences with short words,
	and excruciating eyes. 	

	only now, closer to 30,
	already feeling divorced from this age
	and this coastline of cities
	named after saints,
	can i be kind to 29.
	we laugh a little,
	go to art shows,
	walk around the lake at night.
	grateful but puzzled at the same time,
	29 will never understand
	why i ignored it for so long;
	29 doesn't realize it is 
	the end of one thing
	and the beginning of another.

march 21, 2003