She used to hang around

She used to hang around all the big shows trying to catch a glimpse, she wanted to satisfy her hunger her addiction because she didn’t know any other life True she’s held together by pins and thread but she has a stain-glass face and she’s got lamp shade eye lids and metallic eyes and even the moon is jealous when the sun looks at her Then one day when she was hanging around a man came to see her, said, “He wants to see you” and she was so ecstatic she exploded rationalizations out her mouth and her teeth waltzed next to her tongue She vaulted up the stairs and echoed booming mountains up the stratosphere as she neared her Mt. Olympus where she would finally consecrate her dependence on diamond-lily day dreams and radiant yellow magnolia aspirations But she took so long importuning the door to open that she missed the ‘flourish’ and the trumpet players went home sad, the moon came out sporting a grin and the Man she came to see eloped with his other White Lady because he liked to feel caressed by her snow-white ocean eddies and her over-drive undulations and ululations carrying off his flotsam, jetsam, and detritus to his half-heard parade, which she attended the time after and after and forever