When I Grow Up

in Cleveland they say
there is a line drawn in the sand
dividing manicured nails and hard hats

in high school i was a tiger
graduating to the circus
dancing to cracking lashes
echoes of a defined womanhood placed on my shoulders
with a kiss the cook apron tied around my waist

my neighbor says
i ain't lady like
but i walk the tight rope she fears
she watches me from below
as i put one foot in front of the other
each step a prayer i don't become like her
grounded

she don't wish the way she use to
her fire evaporated
i see the ashes in her eyes
burying herself for goodness sake
dreams hung so far in the back of her closet she forgot about them
she can't fit into the dreams she bought for herself
how un-Brady
to burn dinner
count years
and discover the sum of you equals
runny noses and mini vans
I do's and good credit
with a membership to Oprah's orgasms club

she
a shelved book unopened
folding her tongue neatly in her mouth
silent
assuming age gives no more skyscraper moments
wondering how she became benched
watching the world from the sideline

girls
live death one day at a time
never learn periods don't end anything
always find out too late
there's more than one way to be a woman

COPYRIGHT©2003 Kelly Harris

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