You think maybe if you tip the scale a little less.
You think a different shade of brunette. You think
subscribing to Women's Health or that dreaded gym.
You think hair removed, hair enhanced; maybe it's
the clothes. There's getting up earlier, calling back
your face from where it went before it saw the pillow.
Something is different about your hair.
Nothing is different. It is straight, curly, both;
It's all the same. It's not the same.
What is the same is your posture, no matter
how hard you try, you cannot sit up straight
you cannot keep your ankles crossed. What's the same
is tasting lettuce, carrots and spear mint gum.
You switch your shampoo and conditioner, the calendar,
and the light. You say yes to working
extra hours, yes to online shopping, to a free
sample of something---you can't remember what.
Maybe if there was no TV, or schedule, or responsibility.
You wonder if you thought of papers and files, laundry
and a messy house, or if maybe you read a book instead.
No, you think of a little boy and a little girl,
sitting on the beach. They are very much like
one other little boy and girl you once knew long ago.
You think of them, sinking their fingers and toes
into the sand, making something, destroying it,
and starting all over again.