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There are days when I am weary

of my garbage and my rainbows

when I hang my life beside

my one good dress

or shut the closet door

and leave it next to my black boots

days when I want

to be anywhere but me

to be the captain of a ship

or herding sheep

or on my way to Transylvania

those are the days I wonder

if there are egrets

sick and tired of being egrets

or if spiders ever close their eyes

and wish they were Dalmatians

if maybe there’s a goose somewhere

that longs to be an iguana

at the end of such a day

when I open the closet door

and my boots are still pouting

and my dress sticks out its tongue

I go to bed and think

how silly I have been

to wonder what an egret dreams

or about the hopes of spiders

in the morning

when I consider geese

with lizard aspirations

I say how stupid of me really—

but for a moment there

you thought about it

didn’t you.





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