and we began to color outside of the lines,
even though it was very tempting
to stick with the color-by-numbers pattern:
tasting kale salad
and mimicking another era,
we stepped back in time and pushed forward until
I found the space next to you in the Punk exhibit
surrounded by models wearing pins in slashed shirts,
smiling with chagrin as I slipped back into
the excruciatingly painful hot pink heels
leaving behind the freedom of bare feet,
so then
we showed your mother our safe haven,
cloaked in Chablis on a rooftop
with the wind in our hair and
I leaned into you,
and the future unfurled
into a whorl of purple maxi dresses
and unconditional love.
No comments:
Post a Comment