The sun rising as we,
one by one,
are becoming women.
Or, at least,
unbecoming girls

But won't we always be,
somehow
six years old?
We're symbols . In this era of the ego
and superego.
Hello id,
the kid inside
ironically so unchild.

Little pixie
is molting her wings
so big, so grown. Like me, I guess. Us all.
Soon to be real live people,
already us girls
are like our mothers and their mothers and theirs already.

Cause the sun rose on me twice now
When I was born and when I was sixteen;
Has it only got to set?

09/30/2001

Posted on 09/30/2001
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