Career Women

Adriane Quinlan

At the restaurant that preys
on what all of the Midwest
thinks Manhattan
thinks Spain is
I listen to two women
pretending to be happy
and make a face at Gabby,
who’s listening, too.
Is this too much midriff for winter?
How could someone named Terrance not like you? We like to listen and not act.
These are all legitimate concerns,
my mother would tell clients
and I hear myself saying it to Gabby,
who’s crying into the snails we ordered
just to say we ordered snails.
Though who would we have said it to?
It’s okay to hate your mother. I can say that, right? Everyone else does
though a professor told me
if you use that excuse, it means
you’re the oppressor.
So that was what power was supposed to do: procreate.
My boss the other day said he didn’t know until he had a child the love
where you love something so much you want to eat it I was just pretending
I didn’t know what it’s like to want to eat
everything I’ve made,
or at least to take a photograph
before it’s eaten.
In the bathroom
I check my phone.
My only email is from Petco Pals Rewards which I could never figure out
how to opt out of.