My Mother
by Ballybay
"Why don’t you…?"
My mother sighs for the thousandth time,
Thwarted again in her mission to make a good Texas lady out of me
A devotee of Our Lady of Revlon
Someone who always wears the right eye-shadow,
Who lives to flirt and wear high heels
It’s hopeless-I like the my boots feel on the sidewalk
Like I can walk anywhere I care to wander
"You never know who you’re going to meet"
Won’t keep me from leaving the house however I look
Should I happen to meet my future husband in line for unleaded gas,
My one and only better get used to sandals and ponytails
I prefer my writing pens to eyebrow pencils, my books to Cosmo,
Anything on the face of the face of the planet to beauty pageants
The perfect pumps are not a spiritual quest
I’ll never join the class of women who say "I’m not mad, I’m
hurt."