I am tired of being practical, saving socks until they become see thru, props for the feet, only a suggestion. Not ordering wine on a school night. Although I’m not in school and haven’t been but you know what I mean. Watching my weight, counting the newest spider veins, waking up, worried. So I don’t have health insurance, where, pray tell, and I don’t pray, where will it get me besides roaming these small cold halls and wondering what that last dream meant.
Tired of counting pennies, brushing off the dust, counting on my fingers. I have one of those optimistic natures, trusting that somehow life will even up, pay me my fair share. So I am declaring this evening, at least, my own and buying red shoes and going out to dinner, ordering a small bottle of Sake, for instance. I am calling other wimmin who understand what I mean and take me seriously, who pat me on the back because I can’t reach back there.
Deidra