I don’t know how it happened,
these comfortable shoes,
lipstick snugs in the tube,
sleeping inside a small cross-body
purse without Dolce, no
Gabbana or Prada.
Make-up happens
sometimes, blushing or lining.
Irises accessorize,
turning green, sometimes
brown or amber, never
quite the right color.
Stockings are sex toys,
used for dinner dates and weddings
of beloved friends, acquaintences
get jeans, a clean t-shirt,
maybe polish on the small
spoons I call nails.
My hair hates mornings,
preferring to daydream
of sleeping till noon.
The strands wave
in all the wrong places.
I push it from my eyes,
fingers plowing through,
wondering if it is too late
for this full-grown
woman to take girl lessons.
Adria Abbott Glass writes poetry, short stories and flash fiction. Her work has appeared in Story Garden 5, Story Garden 7, Green Silk Journal Story House coffee labels,and a couple of long gone publications -- insolent rudder and Chick Flicks. She has served as ghost writer for a series of children's books with Canum Entertainment and works for a non-profit arts organization. She lives on the North Coast of the U.S. with her husband of 27 years, two teenagers and a vegetable garden.
Archived at http://girlswithinsurance.com/index.php/poetry/42-poetry/263-ag-0710-girl and shortlinked at http://frsh.in/dr
