as a five year old, it was my heaven.
Barbie? give me the boy toy for my happy meal, please.
then heading into the big time.
no matter how many times my green side came out
and that dreaded paper bag filled with my insides
it was still my rocket into outer space
and my rocket into inner happiness
before final destination – Great America.

sixteen years and three months
add one week — (i failed that stupid test)
it became my individualism
out on my own to party all night long
or at least until curfew?

who said it’s a guy’s right and love
it made me a woman
as I flew from my nest
it was my connection to the memories and friends
a life I left behind
and I call back with all my might
because I am homesick.

but that sorrow had never reached the pain
that has dawned my vessel to my visit to Morgan Freeman.
am I ready to be a star?
take on the dog and lose the two pennies
and all of the children whose lives would be
my responsibility.

Why such hesitance?
Just get in the car and drive.