She kept dolls in the curio cabinet
Porcelain ones from the orient and beyond…
They were tokens, all of them
Her father told her…
That told stories of travels in distant lands
And she loved them…
From the faux-eyelashes to the *real* patent leather shoes
With buttons and buckles that gleamed in the sun…
"Fleeting, Katie. Life and time. It’s ephemeral."
He’d mumble after more scotch and a bottle of wine
And she’d smile and try her best to pretend she knew
Understood and grasped the subject before he caught on
And he never did…
He’d glance her way while she dawdled by the door
Dwelling on his words and sighing…
"Just take the bottle away from Daddy…everything will be okay..."
And thirty years later (with cirrhosis of the liver)…it was…
Light glinted off her glasses as she passed the sinking sun
And with the city it all dwindled…
The memories, her father with that discerning smile,
Bottles of booze and orient tales…
But he did manage to leave her once piece of advice..
"Fleeting, Katie. Life and time. It’s ephemeral."
*-*-*-*-*-*
"Wasted space, wasted effort, wasted life…"
She’s heard that all before
Only this time she giggles
And wraps around her finger,
A silken cord of auburn hair…
If only they realized…
She’s got a fantasy or two
(Radishes to sunshine and daises…
She’ll marry him in rain with withered daffodils)
Tucked inside that quiet mind
And demons, auras of pale blue,
Trapped behind those eyes…
She’ll slide away and flee, mid-morning,
Defy her parents…
Borrow the carriage...
And leave Cinderella a condescending note…
She’ll meet him there…
In the field of flowers…
Thorns…
Madness…
Insatiable (unbearable) heat...
And dream…
She’s got a history for living
Inside sordid little fairytales…
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