To be one of those summer girls all gold and prematurely wrinkling
I used to be a good witch now I’m just a bad bitch roaming through the night
The rich are busy dressed like circus tents with flounces and clownish buttons their tenuously lit dinners barely fill the silence in their lives
To be one of those rich summer girls laughing and unattainable and unafraid to dress in white with stick thin heels that won’t get stuck in any sewer grate and they’ll never pass over one
But I am not
I’m wintery cold from watching
Always speaking and never heard
Left to sit smiling and sipping listening to insipid people regurgitating what they read online
Perhaps I have a better fate in store. The mechanics behind my eyes are proving useful. I can walk in anywhere and not have a dime on me and walk out full and hazy surrounded by people who love to be around me.
I wonder if those summer girls have someone to talk to
About their fears and dreams