"The Supremes."
"We were born to be gray.
We went to school, sat in rows, ate white bread,
looked at the floor a lot.
In the back of our small heads, a long scream.
We did what we could, and all we could do
was turn on each other.
How the fat kids suffered.
Not even being jolly could save them.
And then there were the anal-retentives, the terrified
brown-nosers, the desperately athletic or popular.
This, of course, was training.
At home, our parents stripped their heads and waited.
We learned of the Industrial Revolution,
the sectioning of the clock, and the pie slices.
We drank Cokes and twiddled our thumbs.
In the backs of our minds, a long scream.
We snapped butts in the showers, froze all
shy girls on the dance floor, pinpointed flaws like radar.
Slowly, we understood.
This was to be the world.
We were born insurance salesmen and secretaries,
housewives and short-order cooks, stockroom boys
and repairmen.
And it wouldn't be a bad life, they promised,
in a tone of voice that would force some of us
to reach in self-defense for wigs, lipstick, sequins."