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I had many heart to hearts with teenage girls this week. It’s my favorite thing.  Many of them don’t pick up on my old lady references, and yes, at thirty-three, I am an old lady to them, but here is one I dropped for one young lady, and I hope it helped:

At the very least, I hope she will google this at home and learn how to throw a beverage into someone’s face. Also, about the greatness and utility of leotards.

Here’s another one, especially accurate for our general population: “Confusion is nothing new”

And really, would any teenage girl education be complete without this? As you can see, I take my duties as English Teacher to Young Women very seriously:

And, yes, I was like, two when this one came out, but I still felt the need to impart Cyndi’s wisdom to my teens, because, GIRLS:

And this:

So, I guess an pop-y girl poem is calling to me. “They just wanna, they just wanna”….

They Just Wanna

Look how much fun those girls had with their aquanet and spandex, look how pleased they were in their what we would call now modest denim. No cleavage or bottoms to speak of, just close ups on the microphones and lipstick, and total control of all the vehicles. This is what I wish for you, my wayward and lost. I wish for you to channel them all, for you to grab that night and command it, because it is yours. Teach the daughters this bubbly fun, the teased fun of lined eyes and tights under denim, instead of the spray-tanned cutouts, instead of the sad pop wrecked cutouts, every now and then they might fall apart but that is no reason to medicate them, every now again we get full of passion, every now and then they get adolescent and dark and shouty, let’s make a pact in which we deal with it. Once upon a time there was light in them, before the riddling cages, before the capturing images, before the bondage of their screaming hearts, once upon a time these girls were given microphones without headsets, and then they sang. And oh, how they danced, then, with warm calves knitting fast steps and synthesized production and maybe it was no different then but their bravery felt less sold and more commanding, more heroic and less glossy, less every page of every rag in all the world, here’s what I wish for you, you girls lost in this long and confounding decade: have your fun, have your fun and revel in it like gipsies, tramps, and thieves, get on a good giggle,

and do it in safety. Maybe get a blackbelt.


That’s a fun poem that got a little sad at the end. That’s okay. Home now! It’s good. Happy Saturday, Poemfriends.