We have a soft spot for drama,
and for memorization;
we like to share whatever we have been told.
We liken ourselves to tadpoles, to works-in-progress,
to fishhooks, to earbuds, to loquacious
teens, and to their vintage Princess phones.
We used to believe that, being so good
at belatedness, we might never have to get old,
which was our mission, or our curse;
though our true age is unclear, we have had equivalents
in nearly every civilization,
both in our efforts at sarcasm and our attempts
at protests. Leave our single sisters alone.
We come in several shapes but are never
heartless, or pointless, and never entirely straight
If you ever see just one of us,