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By Rhetoric Date: 2001 Sep 19 Comment on this Work [[2001.09.19.08.41.11532]] |
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You walk amongst hundreds on red-bricked streets who are blind to your beauty. Your clever quips are wasted on dim souls with chowder mentalities. Could I create a Sex in the City character more pronounced than you? I see you passing time; the frothy coffee and buttery chardonnays are lackluster drinks to keep your urban palette tamed in this one horse town. They suffice cravings for exotic tastes, while trapped in coleslaw country. Your vacations take you far beyond beer drinking on mountaintops. Can this culture contain your desires? Can I conceal my longing to be your pupil? Teach me the ways of the world you enigmatic Goddess. Each day you wake, only to be reminded of the failure of society. Give it to me, your sadness, social servant - keeper of the children. How can chic and compassion exist in such harmony? Preach at me the divinity of Big City Life. Guide me away from perpetual Hollow Dwelling Sadness. With strappy black shoes and golden toe nails; you ain't from 'round here, are ya? White puffy cars fly by me - none with a flaxen haired pilot steering its fate. I want to acquire a taste for goat's cheese and ripe, sweet olives. Where else can a country gal like me find a woman like you? These streams of thought take me to the brink of watching you - only to emulate the stylistic righteousness that will never be mine. I can't even spell haute couture, let alone fathom which train to take me there. I am a simple girl, with extravagant dreams. My dreams keep you planted in my town, caged by your birth and liberated by your education. Do not fly away, learned Lady. Keep us all in whispers awaiting your next big move. I will watch you, like the rest. I will stand in line hoping to glimpse your satchel -I eat what you eat. Tonight, I feast on savory salmon and sautéed Brussels sprouts. Yum! Anything to be more woman, and less Mountain Mama. |