Tomorrow, when you plan your daily trip
to buy another sack of onions, find
an iridescent dressy gown to walk
through town in: rouge your cheeks
and lips; peruse until you’ve picked
the right green picture hat with slinky
yellow, purple feathers, pinkish ribbons;
sport some rosy gloves; and choose
your stronger walking shoes to help you
promenade more comfortably through
more unexamined mews and avenues
than usual of your penumbral city.
Prettily take pity on the strangers whom
you wave to who behave as if the day
were not as strange as they are to each
other. Be the Universe’s mother.
.
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