She can hear her alarm clock,
But her dream is too good,
Too impossible to wake up from
So she rolls over and hits at it,
Causing the beeping to cease
If only for a moment

But it’s too late, the dream is gone,
Like sand cascading
Through her hand
She groans and rises out of bed,
Tugging on her robe from Wal-Mart

She leaves the water on while brushing her teeth
And realizes that the foam from the
Toothpaste that is seeping out of her mouth looks
Like the white froth that is found
Holding on to waves
Some thing she’s only gazed upon in pictures

She tries to brush her short black hair,
But nothing happens, if anything, making it worse
Giving up, she sighs and puts a nude band aid
Over the bruise on her forehead,
Remembering the screeching of the tires,
And being hurtled forward, feeling
As though flying ten miles, but really only being throttled
Ten inches

She shudders, and jerks out of her memories
Applies almond lotion on her face,
And smears on her Cover girl lipstick
She looks at her self in the mirror,
And her shoulders fall

She looks like so simple, so absolutely ordinary
That the she seems to blend in
With the brown, cracked plaster of her walls
She wipes of the red lipstick she has on and
Puts on a lilac colored metallic one

She shoves her hair inside her crossing guard cap,
And shrugs on her neon green coat,
The one that mangles her body, disfiguring it
The only thing clothing in her closet
that makes her stand out, just a tiny bit.

She takes the elevator down her seven story apartment,
Knowing she should of taken the stairs,
Knowing she is becoming overweight
But knowing that it doesn’t really matter any more,
That there is no one she is trying to impress