Where do I come from?

April 1, 2010
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Paint crawling up my arms
Acciental palettes on my carpet
Ideas scattered in the heavy air

I come from chores after school
Always clean, always tidy
When my mom sees the mess…
The world will end

One four inch heal dangling off my toes
The other sprawled across the room
Smeared mascara
And glitter in my eye buggers

I come from church on Sunday
Better be up, better be ready
When my mom sees me like this…
She will make me pray for my weekend sins

Driving through the night
Tempted not to stop
But drive to California
Don’t stop, don’t look back

I come from Wisconsin
Forever frozen, forever unchanging
But my mom reminds me…
I better have her car back by 1am

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