STELLA PADNOS

A GUIDE TO BEING 28 YEARS OLD

At the cemetery don't act like you know what you're doing or how to behave. Be too friendly. Giggle as you throw the second flower on the coffin, after his father. Thank everyone profusely for attending this most inauspicious occasion. You may never again have this chance to be a celebrity, to carry a burden as gracefully as a pashmina shawl, to question yourself as a stranger.
 

"Stella, how can you be so strong?" Pretend instead that she air-kissed your cheek, hug her and go on beaming. Grief makes you look beautiful. Not eating for three days accentuates your cheekbones; the tears open up your big brown eyes. Black is always urban flattering, even in New Jersey suburbs. A bit of pink lipstick, a hint of blush, waterproof mascara of course. Everyone should have this honor, a funeral instead of a wedding, black skirt instead of white gown, the boy's family footing the bill. Your father is still paying off your death.
 

I was stunned; I barely moved; who's in that coffin? You will look paler than usual so remember your blush; you are in mourning; you can get lucky easily. Ask the aunt for a spliff. Take advantage of your own vulnerability. Make it work for you. Men light your cigarettes- who are they? Ask them. Give them attention, stare at their eyes, memorize the color. A man who is worried about you will soon want you. There are only so many forms of attention. Keep your hair down. It's sexy because it keeps something hidden.
 

Would you like a sandwich? No, I'm really not hungry- I just ate on Thursday. Can I sit here? We just went food shopping and bought so many dairy products. They will all spoil- who will eat them? Will you take a walk with me? I won't let you go too far off the trail- I'll remind you why we're here. We are devastated: we have lost everything but this cigarette and my keys to a home I left.
 

One of her poems, The Knitter, that appeared on Poetz 2002 was nominated for a Pushcart Prize.