Poor Laurel’s Almanac

I come from scoops of chocolate stars,
piled in barrels along side
the salt water taffy and sugar babies,
my reward for not complaining
behind my mother
on errands to Coulter’s Department Store,
The May Company and Sears

Not a word, I said to myself

but willed my Laurel Ann secret power
on the scenario until…

Maybe just a bit more, I heard her say.

The man behind the counter
wrapped up the bags

My mother checked her watch
spritzes Blue Grass
and applies coral lipstick
flawlessly without looking
at her mirror

I come from tap dance
classes because flackery
clack clack suited me
better than Swan Lake

I come from playing checkers
with my grandmother after school
the natural history museum
and its saber toothed tiger dioramas
tar pits everywhere
palm trees and the slant murmur
of danger

I come from spectacle
I come from excess
I come from Pony Land
because every little girl should
have one.

I am the perfect accessory.

I come from Eau de Mama,
more stink than cologne.

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