Pseudoanachronism I

I’ve gotten on the wrong bus four times.
Lived here my whole life—
tell me, how does that happen?

Tell me how I got so lost
on twenty-first century land
with my Mary Janes, and my
darling poodle skirt?

I’m not proud of the woman I am.
I see her, yes;
she is the oldest soul in the big city.

I am not the modern woman,
I am ashamed of my portrait
in vintage Arden lipstick.

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Anastasia Jill is a queer writer living in the South. Her work has been nominated for Best of the Net and Best Small Fiction Anthology.