A meditation on a woman at a flea market as she dreams of another life ... a different life.

She dips slightly to the music
On the two dollar radio
Crazy … I’m crazy for feeling so lonely …
A calm, gentle movement
In wedged, slip-on shoes
Waving her hand
The one with the gold thread
Of a wedding band
I’m Crazy for feeling so blue …
Her pink shift drifts
Over white, unvacationed legs
Flowering with capillaries
For each one of her children
I knew, you’d love me as long as you wanted …
She never had time to be thin
Only to be blond
Not quite to the root
And lipsticked
Not quite to the corners
Of the mouth
And then someday, you’d leave me for somebody new …
She smiles and softly sings
Worry, why do I let myself worry. Wondering, what in the world did I do …
She turns and saunters thorough
Sundried silk flowers
Pink crystal vases
Half-opened perfume.
She lingers long
Over old, wooden sleds
Figurine lamps
And broken frames of broken beds
I’m crazy for thinking my love could hold you …
She dreams mysteriously
On assorted buckles and beads
And empty jars
Of department store candy
I’m crazy for trying …
She rocks in a red, threadbare chair
And fingers macramé and faded tapestries
And crazy for crying …
She rubs the velvet on a faded Elvis
And tries used ribbons in her hair
And crazy for loving you.