Thirty-three years and forty pounds ago
I lived in the body of a college girl
Heavy rains fell that spring
marshing the commons
tips of fresh grass poked through clear water
parking lot gravel sparkled

In those days everything about me
Was vaguely Japanese
the yoga, the watercolors, the Tassajara Bread Book
I was a virgin to disappointment
wrote poetry every day
ate a cup of yogurt for lunch to stay slim
expected miracles because I was so deserving
no one I loved had ever died

In college you make choices
a thousand roads not taken
I became a novelist, teacher, playwright and finally a prisoner
which cracked my heart back open to poetry

Thirty-three years and forty pounds fell away
I flew on a fresh spring wind back to campus
back to nineteen where
wild chicory bloomed in the sparkling gravel
like bits of sky