How I’ve hunched
down low, wicked girl, until this good earth
swallowed me raw.— Sally Wen Mao, from “Anna May Wong Fans Her Time Machine,” published in The Poetics of Haunting in Asian American Poetry
concept: i am eleven years old and waving from a school bus to strangers. people glance up at me and scowl. they are too busy. a passing train: a woman catches my eye for a split second that will last forever in my mind and waves, keeps waving, even as she recedes into the distance. we both remember each other, and we both know there is no chance of reuniting.
i still think of her
me: *worries that I’m Evil and Manipulative and tries very hard every day to be a good person*
me: oh my god
me: I’m manipulating people into thinking I’m good
what do u mean i don’t have a social life I just went grocery shopping with my mom
