Honesty Pants

MAMMIE'S MORNING WAFFLES 
The precise moment after college graduation,
the American dream,
dressed in a meticulously ironed, sky blue button up,
conveniently forgot to celebrate the achievements of the day and instead,
scurried aside to oblige the obtrusive, urgent inquiry,
“What’s next?”
and before I had the chance to think true to myself,
a proper answer escaped from my lips –
hand-me-down subservient words marched in perfect unison upon predictable
sound waves and cleanly stood underneath the shadow of expectation’s
impatient ears –
perhaps grad school,
the beautiful chorus of circumspect –
or an eternal commitment to a convenient stranger,
the delight ring of a rational reply –
lawyer, doctor, teacher, housewife – No.
Emancipate me from social suffocation, allow me to dance beyond the bounds of
predetermined paths – untie my hands so I can
paint murals on the walls assumption has erected around me – I cannot
just add water
and whip up meager existence like mammie’s morning waffles.
Mortality demands an eternal account of what I choose to make of this one, wild life –
and on the Day of Judgment I will unapologetically stand before God and my smile
will tell him - The ones You made with pocket-sized imaginations and kiddie pool convictions tried to convince me my father was a formula
and He will reply, I am so glad you didn’t listen