WHEN I GROW UP
(Warped ideas of adulthood, possibly due to watching too many soap operas as a child)
At times when I was young and restless,
I imagined what I would be today,
And whether I would stay in Maine,
Or if I’d move away.
Would I be a criminal?
A cunning jewel thief?
A bank robber? A villainess?
Inflict many a mother’s grief?
Would I be a prostitute?
Another dirty whore?
Or lady of eloquence and class,
expensive to adore?
Would I be a soccer mom and wife?
Chained to a picket fence?
Live an ordinary life,
Of chaos, pride, and sense?
Would I be a woman free,
To wile away the day?
Travel, drink, write and love,
With whomever I wish to play?
Would I be a movie star,
For all the world to see?
For everyone to know my name?
Immortal I would be.
I only have one life to live,
So I thought I would decide
To take a shot at every role,
At least on the inside.
