Americana

I used to have freckles, too.
Charming childhood imperfections still glowing
On your fresh, clean face.
Tamed yet natural eyebrows
Framing bright, observant eyes.

I used to wear my hair up
Like yours, in a bouncy ponytail.
Silky hair, a mixture of corn crops and sunshine,
Kept at bay with a black elastic;
Not harsh, but graceful.

And all those heritage brands you wear,
I can wear them too, just,
Your striped polo or cable knit sweater
Are crisp, put-together, ensembled.
And I, I’m just lumpy.

On summer days you’re just as cheerful
As on dark, gloomy winter days.
Sweet pea season to vanilla season,
Khakis of high quality with boating shoes,
Or riding boots, or thick wooly socks.

Peaceful and harmonious, your family is fiction.
But it isn’t, you’re all peach flesh and red blood.
The chemistry you share enables you
To craft with dried pasta and
Eat hotdogs at baseball games without getting fat.

American girl. The modern, urbanized Rockwell.
Neat clothing, effortlessly worn;
Well-groomed, au naturel, perfumed.
Head-to-toe embodiment of a country’s values,
The poster-child of wealth.