Under Repair

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Under Repair

She had dreams
as big as yours— 

of college—
fine clothes—
a useful career—

but,

someone
grabbed her heart,
that junior year.

He said, 
 
“I Love You,” 

and she was 

trusting 

enough 
to believe his
thinly sliced 

Promises,
Kisses
and Caresses.

The upshot, 

(surprise, surprise)

a baby girl
came along,
perfect in every way.

The boy soon drifted away,
a small boat, unmoored.

So, there was no 
high school graduation

strut across the stage,

or cartwheels 
with diploma in hand, 

or proud parents beaming.

Home alone that 
celebratory evening, 

her daughter fussy 
and running a fever, 

bottle bubbling, 
angry on the stove,

and later, when the baby 
finally fell asleep, 

She, our dropout,

stood before the mirror,
imagining a glorious 
satin cap and gown,

tassel flipped to one side, 

It was then She saw herself, 

standing beside a dusty road,
dressed in sloppy jeans,
hard hat,
and fluorescent vest
holding a 

Slow, 

sign

at fifteen bucks an hour

that she wished she had 

noticed 

way back when.

. . . j
from the Childhood Remedy and Other Such collection

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s