Thursday, March 10, 2011
A magazine clipping on the mirror tells me
That I am the “Girl of the Moment.”
Which moment? This moment?
This blinking of my eyelids
As I stare into my drooping blood shot eyes?
Most of my pants are too tight now
And my face is pallid, and graying under the eyes.
I critique the girl in the mirror.
In moments past, was told that flat abs
And protruding collar bones
And provocative dress
And eyes outlined black,
Face powdered to perfection-
This was the way to get noticed
By a boy.
In this moment she has rebelled.
She wears a Led Zeppelin T-shirt and crew sweatpants
No eyeliner, no powder.
She hasn’t worked out in six months
She doesn’t give a shit.
The magazine clipping that is taped to the mirror
That says, “Girl of the Moment”
Comes from a world of dolled up angels,
With beautiful faces, bodies and attire.
But this girl in this moment doesn’t understand
Why if she’s pretty,
Why she tries so hard to be pretty.
Why if a boy is pretty, he is just pretty.
She’d like to be like the flying man
On her Led Zeppelin T-shirt,
Naked and Liberated,
Pure and unmasked.