A crop top of green and white florals tied up just below my breast bone
I recall when I drive near the home where girlhood was spent/spilled
The futuristic sheen of metallic blue Y2K hysteria on my lips/fear of not withdrawing funds from ATMs
Because computer geeks forgot to account for 1999 to 2000, so the 00s would mean an end
It was pretty clear we’d all die or escape to a bunker or on a full tank of gas, drive north to….
We would use the funds from my lucrative modeling contract to helicopter the hell out of Dodge
I could save our little family from a lifetime of canned green beans by being pubescent/sexy in cutoffs
I watch Keanu be the chosen one, and I cry a little, like why is he special?  All the boys in my class keep saying “Ms. Anderson” slowly and mouthy but they don’t give me a pill to get the hell out of….
There was another, denim top I wore to school veiled under other shirts, to show a perfect navel, youngish, a baby’s, thrust into the 2000 to find out I’d lived, noting had blown up, died, morphed, zombie'd, shut down…
so what now?