on the days when we did nothing for the charlatans
how happy we were eating pints of strawberry ice cream
playing softball in the fields behind the church
going to visit the town attractions
keeping the peace and avoiding all factions
reading old library books
with or without shady nooks,
reading at all
and in the apple crisp Falls.
how disappointing we grew up to work for them
there being no other choice really.
still, we escaped in dreams
in twilight movie screens
and in time machines of our own design,
however fragmentary
o, by prismed lamplight
propping up the old fairy tales in our minds
while absently churning the butter, just in time
snow blinded in holy Decembers or in the early Spring
helping our Mothers
in stiff starched dresses and little doll coats
praying our way through the waltz's notes
recalling the gilded age,
the violets, the late roses.
mary angela douglas 21 february 2022;17 march 2023
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