People will tell you to keep your head down,
not wear white after Labor Day,
and to say grace before meals.
If you’re interested in the arts
they’ll warn you to minor in education
(so that at least part of your college
experience won’t be wasted.)
They’ll ask you “Why doesn’t a nice girl
like you have a husband? Don’t you want children?”
You will be expected to be the saint, not the slut,
the mother, not the explorer,
the martyr, not the mastermind.
Amidst all these expectations
that will inevitably assail you,
I can only offer a piece
of anti-advice:
Live life on your own terms
and fuck the rest.
The beat of your own soul’s drum
is much louder and relevant than
the metronomic tempo
that insists on anesthetizing the masses.

(The one thing I’ll tell you
is to not listen to anyone
who tells you things.)