Revised Popcorn and Sitcoms

When I am old, I will do handstands and cook with my feet.
all my children will call me by my moon name
and swear allegiance to my wool socks.
Upon rows and rows of spices on hand painted racks
they will they learn their mothers magic stews and potions,
on tree top forts they will sing Shakespeare and dance Moliere,
with broken bits of Sea Green and Electric Blue crayons
they will scribble their stories onto pristine walls- and I will but smile and look on.
 I now live enslaved to an overlord of practicality,
With rows and rows of stale books and withering magazines.
In a plain white room I writhe to the droning buzz of a gleaming screen,
my stories too banal to remember.

When I am old I will let down my hair,
and kittens will live in my newly dishevelled nest!
I will dress myself in homemade gowns from the 80’s,
my face adorned with goofy smiles and glitter face paint.
my children will see me and laugh ‘till they pee.

For now, I slave away for  acceptance and pedigree,
my hair rigidly coiffed, my body restrained in pant suits,
khaki’s on weekends, pastel coloured dresses in spring,
maybe, maybe a bold dash of Revlon Super Lustrous Rum Raisin
for a birthday, or a wedding.

When I am old, I will love life again-
For the sake of my itty bitty babes,
so full of promise, so full of light.
I will feed them the milk of my body,
the nectar of my blossoming heart,
and show them all the Muppet movies.

Until then, the woman of my dreams waits for me,
sitting in the summery backyards I knew as a child,
sprawled out on moist grass,
a dog licking at her toes,
and a lemonade on a side table, sweating in the heat.




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