I want to run away and be a Las Vegas showgirl —
the glamour, fun, excitement — now that’s an enticement.
What would my in-laws, the book club, the church-ladies say?
Carpe diem — seize the day.
I’d hire a maid, flee the cleaning, no more harsh detergent,
treat my skin with French-milled soap. Then there’s
the kids — that’s urgent — but let the chips fall as they may.
Carpe diem — seize the day.
There I’d be — wrapped in a white feather boa, nothing else.
My husband, stunned, the audience clamoring for more.
I’m a star, have fame galore, with rich admirers at bay.
Carpe diem - seize the day.
My bubble burst — glimpsed me in the mirror. All that’s left
of my sweet revere is a white feather floating in the breeze,
escaped my pillow when I made the bed. Guess a feather’s
as close as I’ll ever be —
hummm . . . maybe I’ll dye my hair red.
Carpe diem - seize the day.
This poem first appeared in Lake City Lights.
Reprinted in Midwest Medley (Kelsay Books/Aldrich Press, 2018).
Used here with the author’s permission.
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