I was so excited, I was thrilled,
for today the first time
I’d meet fellow poets,
and get out of the bubble
of my solitary literary adventure.

Oh, I was so excited, I was thrilled,
for I imagined there would be a lot of girls—
no disrespect to those who are not—
I was looking forward
to gather with my kin.

How should I dress to impress?
This brand-new pink one-piece,
as soft as dahlia petals,
It would look good on me, would it not?
Oh, let me doll up and put on some make-up.

Here I was ready, all pretty, at least for me.
Let’s go, baby, drive me to the place,
Where my people would be.
But oh wait, you said,
There are blood stains on your dress.

Oh shit, why today of all days?
I was running late.
Oh hell, what should I wear?
Why am I
even a woman?

Oh, baby, find me a pair of black pants,
That’s for the best, I guess.
There is one hanging in our room,
The one I wore when I met Fina last week.
Please, baby, it has to be black.

Oh damn, what about the top?
It should be white, yes definitely,
So I won’t need to mix and match.
The clock’s ticking; I need to be quick.
Let’s wear whatever I see fits.

Oh fuck, why do I have to be a woman today, of all days!
My plan went poof and my dress was ruined.
Oh shit, will I make it?
Will I make a bad first impression,
for running late?

Why do you have to
burst my bubble?
It’s Kartini day, the woman in me should have soared.
But why do I have
To be a woman today?

Off I go—late, but whatever.
Life rolls on, no matter the weather.

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*A spontaneous poem made at a writer’s soiree held on Kartini’s Day. Will be back for future refinement.