To Mother

This is not a letter, but a duel. Parlez-vous français ? Not I.
And you? Don't teach me technology but classify flowers
on my behalf. Luckily, you don’t need to teach me anything.

T-Rex is my prescription for the fear of regressing. I remember
when I realized that my friends' parents were professionals,
or that they were home schooled. I’ve been smoking

in the backyard, wearing pioneer clothing. Put that in your pipe
and savor it. What happens if I were writing a letter to you,
but in the writing I realize the letter isn’t written to you.

Isn't that what happens? My desirous inclination
for direct address becomes apparent. What is it then,
to come clean? From one scenario to the next,

I am shifty. At nap time, I test the waters;
The pillow is testy, the day is not testicular.
There is one thing for sure, you love to line dance.

Fondly,
A Daughter: a desire and an inclination