A reminder about the challenges of growing into ourselves.

That love was meant for beauty queens
And high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn’t all it seems at seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Said: “pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve”
The rich relationed hometown queen
With a guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
So remember those who win the game
In debitures of quality and dubious integrity
Their small-town eyes will gape at you
In dull surprise when payment due
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
When dreams were all they gave for free
We all play the game, and when we dare
We cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
That call and say: “come on, dance with me”
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me, at seventeen







“Mississippi’n Me”