My heart was pounding
My hands were shaking
My period got too heavy
I miscarried on the toilet
Between the phone calls
New thrillers and arrivals
Emails from customers and
Last minute birthdays gifts
The angry old ladies with
Their beautiful mansions
Their Ostridge expressions
Their tightly pressed lips
Judging me on a daily basis
To discover that I had been
A pregnant post covid patient
But why do all my attempts
At structuring some of the mess
Create more chaos for everybody?
Was it because there was no Lynn
Rummaging while I was packing
Saying make that coffee black
Sharing her Future Nostalgia playlists?
How many mornings
Did I bring these traitors
Their stinging nettle tea?
Slash in the face from future me
Here’s a new book by Thomas
Thanks boss, this is Dean
Here’s a new book by Dean
Thanks boss, this is Thomas
Unpacking, moving, stacking books
Doing it all for naught
Because my elbowing colleagues
In their bourgeois fury
Will rearrange them all again
Adaline seems so sophisticated
And she gives such perfect
Subtle scorpion stings
Pretending I don’t mind
The micromanagement
Sucking the life out of my limbs
Gilmore girl why are you flunking?
Fancy words in the Saturday supplement
And a depressed girl living on benefits
Who said people critiqued her
For getting a cat?
The Jugendstil owl
Emily Dickinson looking solemn
Why are my joints burning?
Why are my muscles aching?
Getting claustrophobic
Always snacking but still starving
In this bright minded mausoleum
Stuck with Virginia in the past
The Modernist snobs
In big chairs just garden chilling
My feet blistering
Cause I’m the fucking middle class
Cackling laughter shattering
This peaceful 1900’s shelter
The afternoon tea
Served by my colleagues
Tasting bittersweet
Give me your best genuine smile
Promise that it will be fine
Watch me sweat to get
The psychology section aligned
To gang up behind my back at lunch
And smash me right through the ice
Customer: ’Ottolenghistillsweethere?’
Thinking I liked this place better
With my boyfriend on the porch
His blue eyes curiously lighting up
At an elderly gentleman’s gathering
As one of them kept rushing back
Like he truly had to prevent it from ending
Grabbing my phone with three missed calls
After locking the door of the old bookshop
Spirited mama from the city hall:
THIS CAPITAL IS SINKING
When I was a twenty something
I used to think post-structuralism
Was the most important thing
Now I know its probably about
The babies babbling in my lap
The puppy vomiting over my dad
My best friends in their long coats
Young fathers laughing about shit
Cause this society isn’t changing
When my millionaire uncle died
And his hastily married trophy wife
Moved to Spain with his 22 million
My aunt screamed she was going to kill the fucking whore
On the phone by the swimming pool at her Ibiza resort
But while I read I.M. the golden whippet winked
She said: “Fliegen motten in das licht, genau wie du und ich”
Her cheesecake snout a ray of light
As I was fighting my way out of the dark
In the labyrinth of downtrodden and grave faces
Should be talking about
The big prizes, the ancient classics
But clawed for the tampons in my bag
While they went to literary events without me
I don’t want the dust to settle on my ovaries
When the dawn could be dawning on me
People always feel the need to tell me
When Rosalie has been on TV
Like I’m happy to share my only sister
With Israels whole goddamned conflict
I remember cleaning the counter and saying
What idiot goes book browsing five to six
When Chrissy suddenly started miming
~ It turned out there were still customers ~
Juliette said let’s go see Benson Boone
We’ll go on sneakers like Gen Z
But I almost collapsed under the weight
Of my own literary knowledge
As one of the ancient shelves collapsed
My mama said get out of there
There’s more to you than customer service
Lizzie overworked but back from the English
With dark maroon lipstick
So what chu gonna do now?
Get my drivers license
Buy a car and pack some whippets
Drive downtown through the old suburbs
Where I used to hang out with Mitchell (traitor)
Blast Olivia Rodrigo through the speakers
Unfortunately I went bankrupt
Piecing myself back together
As Humpty Dumpty in ergotherapy
But if I want fluorescent Dua Lipa nails
Who’s gonna stop me?
Now they’re sending me cards
With screwed up faces looking guilty
God forbid they have to think of themselves
As the women who slapped my funky neurons to shit
Thomas asked how was the bookshop?
While I was catching the train back to the city
Returning to my solid ground of water
The air no longer thick or heavy
I said Chrissy bought a horse
And her name is Phoebe
My heart was pounding
My hands were shaking
Washed the bloodstains
Thinking if this was a fraction
Of the actual pain of birth giving
How are there even people on this planet?
Right between these other women
But heard them gossiping in the back
As I was never a dignified club member
But we’ll heart each other on Instagram
Hiding in my boyfriends yellow raincoat
He said the good news of this DARK episode is
That I am able to get you pregnant
Going down behind the counter because
I can no longer stand on my own legs
Take out the trash and sweep the floor
Nobody is reading newspapers anymore
Find the titles in the back catalog
Keep the receipts and check the score
Call back the publishers
Don’t refer to them as: “the Californian babe
with black hair who was here yesterday”
Smile with clenched teeth
So many different questions
Fired at me simultaneously
Scowl at me because I haven’t read
The big fat book by the drunk Venice writer
“I’m buying it to hit burglars”
A customer declared happily
Me: “My mum loves his long hair”
Colleague dropping her head
My boss in the back fighting a chair
Why do all my attempts
At structuring some of the old stuff
Create more chaotic explosions for everybody?
Or was it because there was no Pauline?
Saying you’re better of when you’re writing
Making me a mug of black tea
Predicting this would happen? Why didn’t I listen?
How many mornings
Did I bring these traitors
Their stinging nettle tea?
The knot preserved by future me
Here’s a new book by Dean
Thanks boss, this is Thomas
Here’s a new book by Thomas
Thanks boss, this is Dean
Moving, unpacking, stacking books
Doing it all for what?
So my elbowing colleagues
In their bourgeois fury
Can pretend not to glare at me?
They were looking for a cupcake
And a drop dead gorgeous girl called Emma
Returned to the shop as a happy teacher
Unfortunately my dad loves acid rock
And I slam doors like we’re in the nineties
Gilmore girl you were so privileged
Pretending I don’t mind
People sneezing in my face
Fancy words in the
Saturday supplement
And an inventive girl
Who was a cabinet maker
And built her own minivan
Because this housing market
She was winging it
The Jugendstil owl
Emily Dickinson’s death stare
Why is my laugh too loud?
Why are my hands drumming?
Always snacking but still starving
In this bright minded mausoleum
Getting claustrophobic
Stuck with Virginia in the past
The Bloomsbury members
In big chairs just garden chilling
My feet blistering
While I’m getting nowhere
Still what will protect me if it’s not
This 1900’s Art Deco shelter?
The afternoon tea
Served by my colleagues
Tasting bittersweet
Give me your best genuine smile
Promise that it will be fine
Watch me sweat to get the art section aligned
To gang up behind my back at lunch
And smash me right through the ice
Customer: ’Ottolengishtoospicyformey’
Thinking I liked this place better
With my boyfriend on the porch
His blue eyes curiously lighting up
At the elderly gentleman’s gathering
As one of them kept returning to it
Protesting it really shouldn’t be ending
Grabbing my phone with three missed calls
After locking the door of the old bookshop
Seventies mama from the city hall:
THIS CAPITAL IS SINKING
When I was a twenty something
I used to think post-structuralism
Was the most important thing
Now I know it’s probably about
Most of the boys knowing I never know
Which of the Martha’s it’s going be tomorrow
The one frowning that she doesn’t know them
The one swooping in to save them from oblivion
The one panicking because the planet is ending
The one firing the gun and sorrowfully shooting them
The one heading into the cave where they were heading
My boyfriend with messed hair in his joggers:
Dearest, You’re Apocalypsing Again
When my millionaire uncle died
And his hastily married trophy wife
Moved to Spain with his 22 million
My dad told me that my aunt never got to say goodbye
And about their forever stuck family patterns
But while I read I.M. the golden whippet winked
She said: “Die Zeit ist reif für ein bisschen Zärtlichkeit”
Her cheesecake snout a ray of light
As I was fighting my way out of the dark
In the labyrinth of downtrodden and grave faces
Should be talking about
The big prizes, the ancient classics
But finished the free tampons on the toilet
I don’t want the dust to settle on my ovaries
When the dawn could be dawning on me
Juliette said let’s go see T.A. Swift
And wrap ourselves in sparkling dresses
But I almost collapsed under the weight
Of my own literary knowledge
As one of the ancient shelves collapsed
My mama said get out of there
There’s more to you than customer service
Lizzie overworked but back from the English
With wild and frizzy hair
So what chu gonna do now?
I said I’m going to Barbie in Tuschinski
Relax on the balcony with VIP tickets
Bring my boyfriend with his black tuxedo in
The paintings of the tropical birds dancing
Get the popcorn and some free drinks
To get blown away
By these strong subversive undertones
And these new developments
In cinematography
In my old hangout that’s vintage
And to these bold projects
Female directs and badass actrices
I will be complicit
Because if I want to get out of my box
Who’s gonna stop me?
Now they’re sending me cards
With screwed up faces looking guilty
God forbid they have to think of themselves
As the women who slapped my funky neurons to shit
Thomas asked how was the bookshop?
While I was catching the train back to the city
Returning to my solid ground of water
The air no longer thick or heavy
I said Chrissy bought a horse
And her name is Phoebe
My heart was pounding
My hands were shaking
My head was spinning
‘Bring me my orders girl!’
Somewhere from the back
Show it within a few seconds
Like you’re a witchin’ Hermione
The paper cuts and stains
From soulful stories freshly printed
The right way to wrap birthday presents
Afraid I haven’t removed the stickers?
So Wrap It Yourself b*tch (I didn’t say that)
My brand new marketing abilities
Making me feel like a phoney (smiley)
I couldn’t remember any
Of all the pretentious smack talk
Some costumers complained
I went really rogue that summer
When I put on a red dress
And started reading HEX
My boss shoving a Hitler cover away
Mumbling to herself nobodyneedsthisface
If the basement had a secret portal
I would have space-timed to Mikey
Shown my cyberpunk self in a yellow raincoat
And told him to find me in the future
But not here where all my attempts
At wrapping my mind about something
Always creates more chaos for everybody
Or was it because there was no Jeanine?
Rummaging while I was packing
Saying I’m getting us black coffee
Sharing her favourite hangouts in Amsterdam?
How many times did I bring
These traitors their stinging nettle tea?
Old patterns brought by future me
Here’s a new book by Thomas
Thanks boss, this is Dean
Here’s a new book by Dean
Thanks boss, this is Thomas
Unpacking, moving, stacking books
Doing it all for naught
Because knock knock
Who’s there? Next customer?
No, you’re new rheumatic attack
Snapping you like Vecna’s curse
Burning every possible narrative
And they all looked at me like
Why did she hire this blonde mess?
Adaline looks so sophisticated
And she gives such subtle laughs
Filled with complete contempt
Pretending I don’t mind
The micromanagement
Sucking the air out of my limbs
Gilmore girl get it back together
Feeling feverish again
Snoot words in the
Saturday supplement
And a queer girl
Who struggled with anxiety
She hadn’t found her way yet
But brought delivery meals on her scooter
And felt like she was doing better
The Jugendstil owl
Emily Dickinson staring down death
Why is my head a watermelon?
Why are my sentences cliff hanging?
Always snacking but still starving
In this bright minded mausoleum
Getting claustrophobic
Stuck with Virginia in the past
The Bloomsbury members
In big chairs just garden chilling
My feet blistering
Cause I’m the fucking middle class
The top floor stuffed with endless merch
Including a pop-up Grunberg
The afternoon tea
Served by my colleagues
Tasting bittersweet
Give me your best genuine smile
Promise that it will be fine
Watch me sweat to get
The physics section aligned
To gang up behind my back at lunch
And smash me right through the ice
Customer: ’Ottolengiishdifficultbutgoodformey’
Thinking I liked this place better
With my boyfriend on the porch
His blue eyes curiously lighting up
At the elderly gentleman’s gathering
When one stayed put after it had ended
The whole group rushed back in to get him
Grabbing my phone with three missed calls
After locking the door of the old bookshop
Smoking mama from the city hall:
THIS CAPITAL IS SINKING
When I was a twenty something
I used to think Derrida’s deconstruction
Was the most important thing
Now I know its probably just about
The puppy jumping at my entrance
The baby throwing himself at me with kisses
My best friends planting flowers in their new garden
My boyfriend driving home from the office in his hybrid
My parents saying honey this dinner is delicious
People biking their dogs around in baskets
Cause in this society that takes courage
When my millionaire uncle died
And his hastily married trophy wife
Moved to Spain with his 22 million
My dad told me that when he was 22
An eager girl he once turned down in a hotel
Put a big black bug in his dinner that almost killed him
He got déja vu when that hotel hired him 38 years later
Where I walked in like a wrinkle in time that almost didn’t happen
But while I read I.M. the golden whippet winked
She said: “Wir fahr’n auf Feuerrädern richtung Zukunft durch die Nacht”
Her cheesecake snout a ray of light
As I was fighting my way out of the dark
In the labyrinth of downtrodden and grave faces
Should be talking about
The big prizes, the ancient classics
But smuggled free tampons from the stack
Stitched myself back up at midnight
Scratched open my swelling mosquito bites
Juliette bought a brand new BMW
She said I’m throwing a nineties party
But I almost got buried under the weight
Of my own literary knowledge
As one of the ancient shelves collapsed
My mama said get out of there
There’s more to you than customer service
Lizzie overworked but back from the English
With breasts that looked bigger
So what chu gonna do now?
I’m switching to the buildings
Of stockbrokers and real estate agents
Who are as wealthy and ruthless
As most of my family members
I’ll be between the fit guys with biceps
With their iPhones, their aftershaves
Razorblade sentences and smartwatches
Right at home between their endless fights
Diplomatically documenting their investments
Like the blonde office dolls did before me
To these evergreeds I will be complicit
And if I want to get coffee at midnight
Who’s gonna stop me?
Lost nothing along the way
Except you know, my literacy
Now there’ a Victorian lady
Dressed in white on my couch at night
She said ‘The bookshop used to be mine’
And when I can’t sleep, I sit beside her
My boss said don’t fade out slowly, sparkle the fuck up
The new mini-me put a friendship bracelet around my wrist
While I was catching the train back to the city
Diving into Atlantis as the right-winged wave was coming
The Martha who was me grabbed me
And I fell back into the future
Sending love to Phoebe