Today I’m uncomplicated,

too tired to think in two directions.

A witch in a dark room brooding,

my crystal ball broken.

I’m filled with air, like a balloon,

and I hold desperately to my chair,

afraid to fly out the window

up to the clouds.

I bounce in my seat and grimace

and think when I’m well,

everything will be different.

I’ll be in perfect control and

no one will influence me.

No one will turn my head,

no one will guide me,

no careless boys,

no carefree girls.

I will screech and send them flying backwards out of the room.

I’ll shake my broom

and pull my black cap over their faces.

When I’m well and feel like going somewhere,

I’ll put on my red shoes and my white dress

and dance away.

When I’m well, I won’t feel sorry for myself.

I’ll get a big dog and go for long runs

down dreary back streets where

people waste lives away in front of tvs

and throw beer cans out their doors,

and my dog and I

will toss our heads

and shake our hair in the wind

and not care.

Not even if a creamy convertible

with a slicked up Romeo

pulls up and guns his engine at us!

Not even if he offers to drive us to the Dairy Queen!

We won’t care!

We’ll toss our heads and

flounce out of his life.

Who needs him?

by Cher Bibler