Wednesday, June 23, 2004

wind up toy

I turn the crank key feeling how
Tighter and tighter the spring winds
Iron the skirt
Blow dry the hair
Paint the nails
Spritz the cologne
Until fully wound
I spin gaily across the room
Only to encounter a misplaced object
Skidding sideways,
Wobbling raggedly into a toppled halt
I want to stop myself, but
Can't help looking back to see if I've been noticed
Or simply abandoned for some prettier plaything
Fool to toy with the possibility
I was ever on the radar screen
The plastered on smile serves me well
My only hope to scuttle out, dignity intact.

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