Music in My Ears, A Poem

I sit, legs crossed, warm, nails painted lavender.
The grey creeping up my hair shafts.
Wearing fake fur trimmed boots
Does anyone wear real fur anymore?
I look down at the terrazzo floor 
Sia sings me to melancholy. 
Hozier, Lana, Sia 
Flowing like water into my spaces.
The blank spaces are filled 
With their intolerance for folly.

My thoughts, to not think them, free from them
For a moment only.
Only.

Big Girls Cry, yes I know Sia, yes I know.
Big Girls Cry when their hearts are breaking.
Old ladies blink away the pain while big girls cry.
We fret, worry and sigh
Hide, escape, retreat and scream
Pretend it was all a bad dream
While big girls cry when their heart is breaking.

Jackie and Wilson, what great names and boring
Made fresh by Hozier.
How does he write such as he does?

I want fruit and more coffee
But there are none to be had.
"You judges get snack honey buns or nothing!"
Well that's something.
Dasani water so cold.
So cold.

I'm under the influence of Sia, Hozier, Lana 
With her big eyes and big lies
I though there would be a fruit tray
But my hope was betrayed.
Later there will be gumbo you say?
With your big eyes and your big lies.
My hope was betrayed
There is no fruit tray!
There is no fruit tray!

Oh sweet Joan you snuck into Sia, Lana, Hozier with your talk of God
If he had a name, what would it be?
You asked
You answered 
Yea, yea, yea, yea, yea.
For a moment melancholy changed
To peaceful easy feelings
Not unlike an Eagles song
Not unlike an Eagles song.
Nobody calling on the phone 'cept for the Pope maybe in Rome.

I sit, legs crossed, warm, nails painted lavender.
The grey creeping up my hair shafts.
Wearing fake fur trimmed boots
Does anyone wear real fur anymore?
I look down at the terrazzo floor
Sia sings me to melancholy. 



Carole Turner
1/31/15
Written in the judges lounge during Dutchtown theater competition at West Jefferson high school, New Orleans.

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