There
are days when I am weary
of
my garbage and my rainbows
when
I hang my life beside
my one good dress
or
shut the closet door
and
leave it next to my black boots
days
when I want
to
be anywhere but me
to be the captain of a ship
or
herding sheep
or
on my way to Transylvania
those
are the days I wonder
if
there are egrets
sick
and tired of being egrets
or
if spiders ever close their eyes
and
wish they were Dalmatians
if
maybe there’s a goose somewhere
that
longs to be an iguana
at
the end of such a day
when
I open the closet door
and
my boots are still pouting
and
my dress sticks out its tongue
I go to bed and think
how silly I have been
to
wonder what an egret dreams
or
about the hopes of spiders
in
the morning
when I consider geese
with lizard aspirations
I say how stupid of me really—
but
for a moment there
you
thought about it
didn’t
you.