On Not Flying to Hawaii

I could be the waitress
in the airport restaurant
full of tired cigarette smoke and unseeing tourists.
I could turn into the never-noticed landscape
hanging identically in all the booths
or the customer behind the Chronicle
who has been giving advice
about stock portfolios for forty years. I could be his mortal weariness,
his discarded sports section, his smoldering ashtray.

I could be the 70-year-old woman who has never seen Hawaii,
touching her red lipstick and sprayed hair.
I could enter the linen dress
that poofs around her body like a bridesmaid,
or become her gay son
sitting opposite her, stirring another sugar
into his coffee for lack of something true to say.
I could be the reincarnated soul of the composer
of the Muzak that plays relentlessly overhead,
or the factory worker who wove this fake Oriental carpet,
or the hushed shoes of the busboy.

But I don't want to be the life of anything in this pitstop.
I want to go to Hawaii, the wet, hot
impossible place in my heart that knows just what it desires.
I want money, I want candy.
I want sweet ukelele music and birds who drop from the sky.
I want to be the volcano who lavishes
her boiling rock soup love on everyone,
and I want to be the lover
of volcanos, who loves best what burns her as it flows.

Alison Luterman

14.1.10

Princess Dress

New Image 

One fortunate aspect to living in Mobile is that every year when Mardi Gras begins, I have the opportunity to dress like a princess. There are numerous Mardi Gras balls, and with each, it is a requirement to wear a floor length ball gown. Over the years I have acquired a handful of beautiful gowns. Yet for the past two years, I haven’t been to a ball. It just didn’t seem like something I wanted to do. My first year in Mobile I attended four, and I think that I became burn out very quickly on the late nights and high heels.

Two years ago, I found this dress at a discount store for ten dollars! When I put this dress on, I can’t help but feel beautiful. I honestly think this dress was made for me. And it’s sad that it has sat in my closet in a back corner for two years. I took it out the other night and hung it up. It’s become my “itty-bitty string bikini.” I have worked out every night this week, cardio on elliptical, spin classes that bruised my butt, and numerous containers of yogurt. I have two weeks until my first ball this year. Here’s hoping that it fits like a glove.

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