#9 Of a Future

Sometimes I’d like

to sneak away

to emerald

green lawns and white

picket fences.

.

I’d like to stay

there by the sill

waiting for the

pies to cool. I

want, sometimes, to

.

marry young, raise

one boy one girl,

perfect and blond;

wear red lipstick,

a white apron.

.

Sometimes I want

to be mindless,

my life mapped out

for me--each blade

of emerald

.

I step on, planned

for. I’d like to

bake cakes, scramble

eggs, clean all day,

smile plastic-ly;

.

Pink sponge rollers

in my hair. Alas!

but I seem doomed

to a life of

choice, trial and

.

error, a road

as yet unpaved:

the horrible

uncertainty

of a Future.