Changing

I hate the city in sunny days, my make-up looks too bright and face – too wretched.

Silver Cadillacs rolling down the crowded streets, blaring, ‘cause every madness has a method.

Men seeing right through the vanilla scent in my hair, women looking me up and down –

Do they really think I chose this life out of boredom and became this decadent clown?

Every other car on the street sends me silent air kisses.

I don’t know whether they think:

“It’s the normalcy she misses.”

But I walk past the cars. Across the dust clouds. They’re settling on my contact lenses.

I’m swinging through the joys of this wicked ride and all it’s expenses.