Assimilation

for Rachel

she reminds me of my daughter
this young woman behind the counter
serving me frozen yoghurt topped with granola
the silver ring through her pierced flesh
making my own lip wince and sting
I know she sees me as other

at forty I am still alive
still young
and once again in love

at fourteen
they do not believe it
can be so

we are not marked as different by our hair
this girl’s Ashanti black
my daughter’s half Hispanic braid
my own hidden Ashkenazi red curls
nor by our skin or eyes
but by our age
and the ancient adolescent reach
to be different from us
and the same as each other