If Only You Could See Me As I Want To Be Seen
       

This young woman has ten boyfriends
nine little black dresses and a birthmark
in the shape of Florida on her forehead.
I'm speaking of course of someone
about to be spot-lit. Let's pretend

to be groupies hoping for a scrap. Where
will our interest go? Her cheek pudge,
her squints. We want her so bad, she can't
drive down the street without hood pounds.
If she rings the bell, we'll greet her

with canapés and punch. Oh, she makes us
laugh! She reminds us of a rhododendron—
bloomy and armish. It's thanks to her
we're cool at all. She's a list of perquisites.
Watch as she's lauded for finding the loopholes,

gaming the system, playing one off against
the other, counterintelligence, reading
the fine print, inventing the caveat emptor.
She feeds nectarine slices to the babies
inside us. We kneel at her fish-nibbled feet.

Tweet

Copyright © 2018 Lynn Schmeidler All rights reserved
from Wrack Lines
Grayson Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission