Marta Owczarek - Response

I wish I was a boy,
Sometimes.
My hair would grow in different places,
And I wouldn’t care.
I‘d piss easily on walls or behind trees,
And have the social upper hand,
And a more serious status as a writer.
If I was emotional, I would be ‘sensitive’, not ‘hysterical’,
I could eat a lot, spit in the street, wear jeans, swear and give flowers.

I wish I was a girl,
Pretty and nice,
Well-spoken, smart, with earrings and make-up;
Wear dresses and colorful tights,
Be weak and dependent,
Give medicine and advice,
Gladly accept love, care and attention.

I wish I was a flower in a pot on the windowsill,
On the south-looking side,
Bask in the sun, drink tap water
And meet noone’s expectations.

I wish I was a sea bird,
A migrant one flying away every season,
Leaving behind and leading ahead,
Catching big fish at leisure,
Shitting on tourists in the summers.

I wish I was a colour,
Spread over many pages,
In different tones and different shades,
Omnipresent and durable;
This could be immortality without the downsides.

I wish I was a noone,
A Japanese yew,
A stone by the road or seed in a shoe,
A wave in the ocean, a mist round a tree,
A bottle of water, a sugar snap pea,
If only, if solely to prove it to you,
You who take care of the bees,
I don’t have to be anything,
In anyone’s view,
I could just as well, just very well,
Be me.