Run

[Vanity]

Run

This can't be about the mice, the prince, the slipper
Because that's not where I am.
I'm afraid I bought the time share.
I'm outside of it far more than in it-
and my daydreaming mind just wants
done with it.
I was so excited when I got the dress,
When I ran my finger over the vellum invitation.
I admit I am old enough to get excited over stationary.
I did what girls are supposed to do.
And now I feel like
I'm patting the walls down a pitch black hall-
a dim light grows brighter as I near it.
My cat sleeps in all the boxes I brought home.
He keeps my council, unblinking.
He blots my tears.
I have figured myself about fifteen years too late.
I no longer give a fuck about weeding
or tater tot casseroles,
or the cult of Pinterest.
I'm putting down landscape fabric and a ton of rock--
There. Done. I'm leaving my phone.
I don't care who poked me.
I toss an apple and a shiny water canteen in the car-
I put on my running shoes and run, and run--I feel my heart hammering
  -the sweat is like a baptism- the rush I feel-
I stop in the woods, my hands on my knees, panting.
I'm alone now,
but not lonely like before.