This appeals to me and not only because I was a tomboy. My reading is somewhat different though. I hear a silent "Oh" starting the poem and when in the closing couplet I reach "and this list /of errands on a notepad, this watch on my wrist", I move from the past to the present to hear the sigh of the woman that girl became, a woman ruled by a To-Do list and time constraints. I am not saying that my reading is the "correct" one, I'm simply making the point that a good poem has some built-in ambiguity, something for everyone to interpret and take away.
Some people do still wear wrist watches, it is more polite to glance discreetly at an inner wrist than to constantly be staring at that hideous little rectangle that advertises the dullness of present company.
The sonics are gorgeous—the alliteration and consonance never feel forced, each sound recurring in a nearby word; brake of the bus, down drive, torn, red, garter, glance, shift saved. At the volta we jump not only the fence but from mad action to inaction, meals served without one's own effort, time passing smoothly as a garter snake, before the couplet returns us to present day demands.
Lovely work.
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